The Dornish Girl
by MoxxieRusso
Summary: Sandor Clegane didn't know what he was looking for when he entered Littlefinger's brothel, but it certainly wasn't Elyria Sand. OC/The Hound
1. Not Ser

**Alright so. This story is going to be VERY different from the fluffy author you have grown to love. I'm trying to reach out and write new types of characters, this is my introduction to that. This is going to be rated VERY MATURE for language, violence, and sex, so. theres that. (I mean it's Game of Thrones centric so if you didn't already expect that...lol)**

 **Also if i have any Readers of my Ready Steady Go story on here, dont fret! It will return, but I am burnt out on that right now and I need a break from Edward and Johanna (As much as i love them)**

 **So here we go, off to it then!**

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Elyria Sand stretched quietly from where she laid on her bed. She watched the man next to her in silent reverie while she gently removed a strand of hair from this forehead. The poor boy was terrified when he arrived; he had been sent by his father, barely a day over sixteen, so that he could become a man. She'd seen his nervousness before, on many a boy she'd helped take that final step into manhood, but finally, it was nearing the end of their time together, his father had only paid for a single night.

Elyria wouldn't tell her client's father that most of the time was spent talking, they'd only fucked for a minute before he was done. No, she'd let the man believe that his son had been a stallion, because that what she was paid for, wasn't it? Yes. She was paid to be a fantasy, and a good one she was.

"Young Lord," she whispered sweetly into the boys ear. He stirred, his eyes blinking open. They settled on her and grew wide, until he remembered where he was. Elyria gave him a sweet smile and a kiss before standing up. "Its time for us to part, my sweet." She needed, playing her role perfectly.

"Must we?" He whined, grating Elyria's brain. She denied a pout, throwing on her silk robe, still naked from the night before.

"I'm afraid so, young Ser." The boy was not a Ser, that much was obvious from his stature, he never would be either, as he was set to inherit a good amount of money and a manor no doubt.

"I could free you. I have the money to buy you out of here. You could be by my side for the rest of your days." He pleaded, but Elyria had heard it before.

"Who says I want to be free? I'm not a slave you know." She told the boy, sitting down to her vanity to brush out her long, Raven hair. She smoothed it over her shoulder, draping it lightly against her olive skin.

"I could make you happy…" The little Lord whispered. Elyria smiled, placing her silver hair brush down on the vanity. She turned to the boy quietly, pouting her lips at him.

"My dear, dear boy," she paused thoughtfully, smiling with the corner of her mouth. "Cock makes me happy." She told him, earning a wide eyed stare from him. It seemed her words shocked him and she smirked to herself as she turned around to style hair into a loose side braid. "You may leave the door open on your way out." Elyria told him just as sweetly as she was before.

* * *

It was nearing evening time before Elyria had her next customer, not that she had taken a particular interest in taking more of them that day. After being paid for her services all night, Littlefinger told her to take the day off. She supposed he assumed that she didn't get much sleep, but that was quite the contrary. But she didn't tell him that and instead used her day to catch up on some reading.

There were only a few girls willing to take night customers, Elyria was one of them, she always found that night men tended to be better tippers. She was nearly ready to turn in for the evening when she heard the heavy brothel doors open and shut, and a giant man walked into the common lounge.

Elyria eyed him quietly from where she lounged on the couch as the man did the same to her and her fellow whores. He was a giant man, muscular, wearing a heavy set of armor with a giant sword at his belt. He was serious, rigid looking, even as a swayed with drink. Elyria would've even thought him handsome, had it not been for his face, an entire side of it marred with scarred flesh. But as his eyes drifted to her, she felt involuntary shivers run down her spine, causing her to sit up straighter. Elyria found herself posturing as she puffed out her chest. He was hers and she knew it.

"You, woman." He snarled, pointing a single finger at her. Elyria raised an eyebrow at him, slowly sitting up on her elbows. "It's not often you see a Dornish whore. You new here?"

"Aye. You have a keen eye, Ser." Elyria teased him. It was true, she was from Dorne.

"Its not Ser." He told her, aggravated. Elyria chuckled to herself.

"Of course not." She muttered. The man stood taller, was she teasing him? A prospective client? "I'll be honest, I'm not sure a sell sword like you could afford me, _Not Ser._ " She smirked at him. The man growled, she was teasing him.

"I'm not a sell sword," He snarled, reaching into his armor and pulling out a heavy looking coin purse. "That should be enough for your pussy, no?" He belittled as he tossed it onto the table in front of her, where it landed heavily. Elyria found herself shocked as she reached into the coin purse, gingerly pulling out a single coin of many.

"You have my attention, _Not Ser_." Elyria told him with a raised eyebrow.

"Thought I would." The man sneered. Quietly, Elyria stood, picking up the purse and crossing the common area to her room. She stopped by the door, seeing he hadn't moved from his spot. She cocked her head with a wry grin.

"Coming?"

"I will be." He told her, following her inside. Elyria led the man to her bed, quietly removing her robe and letting it fall to the floor. He stopped mid doorway, watching her quietly.

"The door." She told him, as if it were obvious. The man scowled, shutting it impatiently. Elyria smirked at him, sitting down on her bed in nothing but her thong. She leaned back on her hands, watching him quietly before speaking. "Are you always this excitable or is it my lucky day?" She teased him. The man remained silent, watching her like he didn't trust her, like she would kill him if he let down his guard. "Oh come now, I'm not going to bite." When that didn't get a response she sighed, coming on to her knees as she met him at the end of her bed. She beckoned him with her hands and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh God's, man! I'm going to remove your armor."

"You know how to remove armor?" He asked, his voice almost startling her. Elyria _tsked_ him, hands on hips.

"I've removed a knight's armor before." She bragged, undoing the straps on his chest plate.

"I'm not a knight." He told her again.

"Nor a sell sword, either." She hummed, not looking up at him as she began to undo the other side. Elyria sat back as he removed the piece over his head, which he let crash to the ground loudly. "Now, need I remove your clothes too?" The large man growled and she sat back, happy with herself. "So, if you're not a knight, nor a sell sword, what exactly are you?"

"Horny." He spat back, his pants and shirt removed. "And annoyed. You ask too many fucking questions for a whore." He told her as he tossed them aside. Slowly he began to crawl into bed and Elyria's heart sped up as she snaked backwards until she was laid underneath him. She could feel his member stiff at her thigh and another shiver made its way through her body

"I would just like to have a name I can moan while you fuck me silly. Not Ser just doesn't do it for me." She purred, hands above her head. The man on top of her watched her for a moment, his upper lip curled as he met her eyes. Slowly he leaned forward, his breath thick with wine as he whispered in her ear.

"You can call me The Hound." He growled as he entered her.

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 **Hope you liked it! reviews are awesome!**


	2. Lilies of the Vale

**Welcome back all! I hope we're enjoying my OC bc I love her.**

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Sandor Clegane has had just about enough of the royal twits ninnery. He'd decided mid way through his fencing lessons that he was finished with his whining and took to looking at the sky instead of watching Jofferey's instructor. If the swordsman hurt the boy it would've been entertainment, The Hound decided he'd even congratulate the poor bastard as the executioner took his head.

"You're supposed to let me win you half wit!" Jofferey screeched, lunging angrily at his teacher. The Hound groaned inwardly as the instructor started to slow his pace.

"The boy won't learn anything if you coddle him!" A voice came suddenly from the grand stand. The Hound huffed, relieved as the imp, Tyrion Lannister, made his way to the practice grounds. Jofferey glared at him coldly, sword not dropping to his side. Sandor raised an eyebrow as he watched the passive aggressive statement from his king. Tyrion Lannister seemed to notice it too as a sly smiled played on the imp's face. "Careful nephew, the pointy end is at eye height."

"What do you want imp." Jofferey demanded. Tyrion ignored him with a simple tut, taking his index finger and pushing the sword towards the dirt.

"The Queen Regent wishes an audience with you, Your Grace." Tyrion playfully pouted at being called imp, much to his nephew's chagrin. The Hound bit back a smirk; as irritating as the imp was it was surprisingly refreshing to see it directed at someone other than himself.

"What for? Can you not see that I am practicing?"

"Oh, indeed, My Lord, and your practice is _obviously_ necessary, but as King of the Seven Realms, there are other tasks that need your direct attention, besides fencing practice and showing young women of the court their father's head on a spike." Tyrion told his nephew. Sandor grew rigid, he had been there that day when Jofferey had taken Sansa to see her father's head. The little wolf had nearly pushed him to his death, now that would have been a sight.

"You hold your tongue, imp, or I'll-"

"What? Show _me_ someone's head on a spike?" The imp goaded. The Hound stood taller as Jofferey threw him a look.

"Dog, take the evening off." Jofferey commanded, to which Sandor did not complain. It'd been weeks since he'd had a night off and he missed his wine.

"Go find a brothel. Your mood has been foul as of late." The Imp called to him, as Jofferey tossed his sword absent mindedly at his intructor, nearly cutting the fools hand off. Sandor growled, he hated that imp, like he could read his bloody thoughts.

"Aye." The Hound barked, bowing to his king. The little shit was right, he's been needing good cooze, it had been just as long since he'd been with the Dornish whore.

* * *

Littlefinger's brothel was much busier today than it had been the last time he'd visited, so he was surprised to find that the Dornish woman was free for his taking. Once again when he walked in, every woman stopped to look at him and every man shivered at his presence. The brothel stopped around him and he relished in it, biting back a self satisfied smirk.

"Ah, _Hooouuunnd_." He heard from a far corner, his name spoken with a very distinct accent as it's speaker drew out the word playfully. The Dornish whore, she remembered him. She smiled at him wryly from where she sat on a well cushioned chair, a large book in her hand. He scanned the cover, a romantic tale of course, which surprised him in a whore house, even if it was a woman reading it.

"Woman." He spoke cooly. The girl's smile only widened as she slunk off her chair, placing her book where her perky ass once sat. She was bare foot and today wore her hair in a tight, southern updo, which didn't suit her high, foreign cheekbones. A sheer tunic dress covered her lithe body, leaving little to the imagination. She placed two, tiny fingers on the abdomen of his breastplate, walking them slowly up his breastplate before tapping it with her nails, almost as if she were annoyed.

"You always come in here so... _armed_." She told him sweetly, rubbing her palm down his armor. "We're whores, not assassins, _Not Ser._ " Again with the teasing, but even Sandor had to admit, her mischievous smile only increased her sex appeal. He followed her eyes around the brothel, by now it had returned to its bustling, lascivious nature. She went to pull her hand away but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist suddenly. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, her brown eyes sparkling.

"I wish to keep you for the night, woman." Sandor growled, shoving her hand away from him. She looked down at where he had just been holding her wrist, before glancing up at him, that mischievous sparkle gone.

" _Elyria_." She leered at him, annoyed?

"I don't care." Sandor told her plainly. If he wanted to know his fuck's name he would have asked.

"You will if you want to spend a night with me." The girl told him quietly as she began to walk away.

"You would turn away a customer?" The Hound growled, stopping her in her tracks. She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking.

"I would."

"You can't."

"I can." She said evenly, turning her body to look at him. "That was my agreement for working in the pleasure houses. Dornish women have certain... _beliefs_ we uphold."

"Even whores like you?" The Hound questioned.

"Even whores like me." The girl told him. Slowly she approached him, stopping with mere inches between them. "You may pay me to fuck you, but I let you inside of me, and that my _hung_ friend-" She grabbed his member through his pants, squeezing it like the tease she was. "Means that I respect you and would like some in return." Sandor exhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes at her. If she had been anyone else who had talked to him like that, he'd have knocked her down a peg or two, but since she held his cock in her hands, and quite well, he relented. He'd have her snatch again, even if it meant that he had to learn her name.

" _Elyria_." He muttered huskily, scowling as he did. It felt wrong in his mouth and he felt weak in her hands. He should have stood his ground, found himself another whore, another would have probably been cheaper. Elyria smiled at him, but not like she was proud of herself, not like she was going to rub it in his face that he had yielded to a whore. Her smiled showed nothing but actual pleasure at hearing her name.

"Come." She whispered, leading him to her chambers once again. This time upon entering he noticed a pleasant smell, something flowery and womanly. In several large vases scattered about the room sat colorful bouquets of flowers all with a heavy aroma. "You like them?" Elyria's voice came suddenly, as Sandor had been caught lingering too long on one of the vases. "Lilies of the Vale, my favorite."

"I don't care." The Hound growled, going to remove his armor. "I'm not your lover, tell it to him." He muttered, his armor removed. Elyria frowned, crossing the room to him and finding the string on his pants. Slowly she began to work it loose her eyes never leaving his face. The Hound growled at her, shoving her away.

"Intimacy is not your forte, is it, Hound?"

"Fuck intimacy. If I wanted intimacy I'd get a wife." He snarled. Elyria raised an eyebrow at him.

"What an interesting sentiment. You'd get a wife for intimacy? Perhaps you're not a dog after all." Elyria told him. She was trying Sandor's patience, he was determined to walk out of this damn whore house and never come back.

"You read to much into it, girl. If I wanted fucking intimacy I wouldn't be in a whore house."

"Yet you chose the Dornish whore who believes that every sexual partner is intimate." Elyria smiled at him before kneeling in front of him. He groaned as she took him in her mouth, fighting the urge to bury his fingers deep in her thick, black hair.

The woman was good at what she does, the Dornish are known for their sexual prowess, that is why he picked her. She was letting her fantasies get to her head, that damn romance novel she was reading when he arrived, no doubt. Another groan, as he focused on her ministrations and less on what she'd said to him. He began to meet her face with thrust after thrust, finally grabbing her head with his hands.

And then she stopped, pulling away from him completely with a sinful smirk. It took all of the hounds effort to not slap her silly, he was so close to completion. Slowly she crawled onto her bed, looking at him before stretching out on the sheets.

"We have all night, do we not?" Sandor said nothing, instead he glowered at her angrily. Elyria pointed at him, beckoning him with a single, manicured nail. The Hound couldn't keep himself from following her order as he clumsily made his way up the bed after her.

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 **Stay Beautiful!**


	3. Moon Cycles

**This one is kinda short but I warned you, it's gonna read like a one shot ore often than not. Happy fourth to my American readers! Happy Treason Day to my British readers!**

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"Welcome back, Hound." Elyria grinned from where she sat at her vanity, brushing out her tiresome mane of hair. She'd like to cut it, how it was when she was younger, but she wouldn't. The men liked long hair. Not that any of them truly mattered. When he said nothing she turned to grin at him cheekily. "Did you miss me?"

"No." Sandor remarked easily, shutting the door behind him. Elyria smirked, turning back to her vanity, earning a growl from the burly man. "Put the brush down. I don't care what your hair looks like." She heard him fumbling with his armor again. The man had been coming steadily over the past month and a half, this was his third visit to see her.

"As much as I would love to please you, I'm afraid I cannot." She finished without even looking at him.

"What silly games are you playing today? If you try to tell me your favorite color I'm leaving." The Hound growled at her. Elyria grinned, looking over at him and standing. That's when he noticed she was fully dressed, no sheer robe, no thong. He felt a growl building in his throat.

"I'm on my moon cycle, _Not Ser._ "

"Don't call me that." He ordered her, his mood growing ever more foul. He'd been with the little prick king non stop the past several days. He'd seen the way he tortured the Stark girl, let his men beat her. Today he'd made Sandor do it and it left him tense and disgusted with himself. It was beneath men to beat a woman and those who did deserved no respect. He needed a release before he released his frustrations out on the ninny boy, because he rather liked his head where it was.

Quietly, Elyria moved to her bed, another book in her hand, however this one was a history book, of Baelor the Merciful. She watched him without words, placing the large book down beside her before pulling her knees to her chest. Oddly, he thought about how demure the whore looked in that position.

"What is your name?" she asked him finally, catching him off guard. He scoffed at her as he gathered himself again, reaching for his armor. He noticed a pout come across her lips as he grabbed it.

"The Hound." He scowled. Elyria chuckled, shaking her head.

"So I _am_ fucking a dog then?" The Hound said nothing, but he did take pause before putting his armor on. "Then I shall name you myself. You look like a Fido." Elyria teased him dangerously.

"Shut your whore mouth, woman." He snarled. Elyria frowned, but this time it wasn't playfully. She was hurt, which she hated to admit and would never tell him. "I come to whore houses to fuck something, not to make a fucking friend and if you can't fuck me then I'd say that makes you useless, doesn't it?" The Hound quietly put his armor over his head, latching it, before turning to the door and yanking it open. He threw one more deadly look over his shoulder at her before stalking out, slamming the door behind him. Elyria flinched and several seconds later her door reopened, Petyr Baelish entering her chambers.

"My Lord," she said curtly, sitting up straighter. She said nothing to him, as she'd just chased out a customer and she didn't want to incur anymore of the Vale man's wrath than she no pointedly already did. Petyr seemed to inspect her from afar before joining her at her bedside.

"I saw him leave so angrily, I was worried he'd hurt you." Littlefinger told her, as he feigned sympathy. His words shocked Elyria, she expected to be reprimanded. While Elyria would ever be thankful for what he'd done for her, she wished he wouldn't be so fake. She was his wares and if she were to come up injured he'd be out of pocket. That is why Petyr Baelish was in her chambers. "that Hound, always so menacing. Thinks because he's the-"

"You know him?" Elyria asked Littlefinger, interrupting him. Petyr gave her a queer look at how greedily she'd asked him. "And he has a name other than Hound?"

"Why are you so curious?" Petyr said finally, finding himself deeply interested. Elyria shrugged.

"He comes in here so often. Won't tell me his name other than The Hound. I told him I was on my cycle and he was displeased. Did he take another?"

"No." Baelish told her bluntly. Elyria hummed to herself, amused.

"Thank you for checking on me, Ser, but I am fine." She dismissed him, picking up her book. Petyr nodded before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind him. Elyria couldn't read though, she was too wound. He hadn't taken another whore for the night. Somewhere inside of her, deep inside of her, she felt a butterfly or two. She squashed them quickly as she took sip of wine.

* * *

Sandor Clegane was angry and his body showed it. The people he saw in the street parted quickly, not wanting to be in the man's way for fear of his wrath. The Hound growled as he reached another pleasure house, this one of less notoriety than that of Baelish. But he didn't care.

I don't go to a whore house to play the question game. He scowled, hand on the heavy oak door. Sandor paused though, staring at his gloved hand. His eyes started down the street, back towards Littlefinger's house of pleasure.

"I go to whore houses to get my prick licked, not to make fucking friends." He swore, shoving the door open. A distinct stench hit him as he entered the establishment, the smell of sex and drink. The smell used to excite him but he was still irritated about that _damn Dornish woman_.

He noticed this house was lessened of light and not as vibrant as Littlefinger's halls. Then he realized why. The women here were not nearly as nice as those in Baelish's employ, most of them looking as if they'd been through one too many men. Sandor scanned the grouping of women, none of them seeming to catch his interest.

 _Too fat, too skinny._ He huffed as he browsed. Just as none of them caught his eye, he noticed they all stared at him in disgust. His face was an acquired taste, that much he knew, but Elyria didn't seem to mind when he entered her establishment. _Fuck blondes. Too pale._ He gruffed, turning away a southern born woman.

"Ah fuck me." He groaned, turning on his heel, right into another hard body.

"Clegane, here for some cooze?" A hearty voice laughed. The Hound scowled as he found himself face to face with a jack ass; Boros Blount and his slimey friend Osmund Kettleblack.

"Aye, Dog, the master let you off your leash for the evening?" Kettleblack goaded, snickering as he did. The man, already drunk, took a swig from his ale, hurting into another fit of giggles.

"You'd do well to hold your tongue, Ser. The more it flaps the more I want to rip it out!" Sandor snarled, grabbing the man's tongue and yanking on it, pulling him forward. The Hound released his prey with a viciousness, all of his pent up aggression finding its way into Kettleblack's miserable tongue. The Ser grabbed at his mouth, swinging wildly at The Bound's face with his other fist. He missed, giving Sandor time to grab his wrist and run it up behind his back.

"Oi! Clegane! Please him at once!" Blount shouted, earning an equally vicious scowl from the Hound. Sandor let go of Kettleblack's arm, just shy of breaking it, and shoved him into his counterpart with a growl.

"You're not worth the effort, scum." Sandor told them menacingly, stepping around them and out the brothel door.

He found his way back to the red keep not long after his spat, where he raided the kitchen for any and all wine he could carry. With a sigh he fell down onto his cot, growling as he hit the hard mattress. Taking a swig of his wine he glared up at his ceiling.

"That damned whore." He muttered, taking another drink. "And her damn questions. With that fucking smirk." _That lascivious fucking smirk and her deep brown eyes._ His mind was cloudy now, the wine hitting him surprisingly hard. He frowned in his drunken state, he'd yelled at her for asking a question as simple as his name. He didn't rightfully want to give it to her, but it had been a painless question none the less. "Fucking woman." Sandor stewed until the early morning, drinking and swearing. He passed out in his armor, bottle of wine still clutched against his metal chest.

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 **Stay Beautiful!**


	4. The Songbird of Sunspear

**There's a nice lil easter egg hidden in here somewhere ;)**

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Elyria had come from Dorne, where she lived in Sunspear. As a bastard of the area, she was given the name Sand and when her over bearing family grew too overbearing, she made a deal with Petyr Baelish: Safe passage from Dorne for "employment." They had negotiated several terms with her working in the whore house. Petyr Baelish would get a Dornish beauty and she would get to pick and choose her clientele as well as leave the brothel whenever she wanted. She couldn't run, there was nowhere to go. Therefore her day started early today. She was headed to the market, where she planned to buy more books. Secretly she hoped she could find some from her homeland, but then she scowled at the idea.

 _Fuck them._ She told herself as she stepped into the courtyard outside of Littlefinger's brothel. It was strange being outside of the sex house, she didn't have to wear any face but her own. She didn't have to watch her tongue, or put up with the shit of others. Her time in the market had gone long before she wanted it too, but it was getting dark and with all of her purchases today she needed to take a client tonight.

The brothel was bustling as she entered, her whore sisters already at work making money. Elyria weaved through the warm bodies, clutching her books to her chest as she made her way through the common room. The Dornish girl nodded as she passed Ros, the newest whore who came from up north.

"Oh! Elyria!" she called to her. Elyria stopped, turning to look at her quietly. "There's a man waiting for you," the redhead told her, nodding her head towards Elyria's closed bedroom door. "I told him you were out but he said he'd wait. Big, burley bloke, half a face?" Ros gestured to the right half of her face and Elyria froze.

"What?" the Dorne woman sputtered, coughing as she choked on her words.

"I can send him away?" Ros worried. Elyria shook her head, smiling at the girl.

"No, no," she recovered. Elyria was surprised to see him back, the last time they talked it did not end on good terms. That was at least two weeks ago. "I will take him." Elyria paused thoughtfully. "I need wine." She said, her face paling again. Ros nodded, putting a sisterly hand on her shoulder.

"Say no more, I will bring some." Elyria nodded, her stomach grumbling. "and I will bring up dinner."

"Enough for two?"

"Going on a date, are we?" Ros teased. Elyria smirked at the woman, turning back to her door.

"My mother always said the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach." She called over her shoulder.

"Yeah, if _your_ cooking for him!" the pair shared a cackle as Elyria entered her room. It was just as she suspected, in the corner by one of her vases, stood The Hound. He turned as she came in, eyeing her up and down suspiciously. Elyria paid him no mind, instead crossing to her vanity and putting down her books.

"More fucking romance novels." He grumbled under his breath. He watched her quietly, in all her full dressed glory. He'd never thought a whore to look good in clothes, he hated admitting, not until he met her. Elyria turned to look at him, finding that he was busy watching her hands, which sat calmly on her new stack of books.

"Just one." She cooed, tapping the stack with her fingers. That seemed to break him of his trance and his eyes snapped to her face. Elyria forced a smile at him, reaching up to take down her hair.

"Aye, leave it. Been waiting long enough for you to get back from your errands." The Hound growled. While he had been waiting for a while, he found he did like her hair the way it was. She didn't style it like a woman of southern heritage today. Elyria's hand immediately dropped from her hair and a knock rapt at her door. She crossed to it, to find Ros carrying a tray and another girl with two jars of wine.

"Thank you ladies." Elyria smiled at them, gesturing for them to set down the things on a nearby table. The Hound watched them quietly, his eyes lingering on the covered plates. Elyria crossed to the table, removing the covers and setting them down. "Come, sit." The girl said quietly, taking a seat at the table.

"What is this, woman?" the Hound growled, standing straighter. He didn't come here for dinner. He came to fuck. "I ain't paying you extra for a fucking meal." To his surprise she sighed, exasperated.

"I'm hungry, Hound." Elyria snapped at him. She was growing tired of his offensive attitude. "I've been out all day and I need food. I was taught it's rude to eat in front of others so I sent for you a plate. The wine is for getting over whatever fucking weird wall that has somehow sprung up between us." She said plainly, cutting into the chicken breast on her plate. "It's dinner, not a marriage proposal." The Hound said nothing as he stared at the girl in disbelief. She had balls, that much he had to admit, no whore would dare talk to a client like that.

Reluctantly, he took a seat across the table from her, taking a swig out of the glass of wine she poured before cutting into his food. Elyria smiled at him through a bite, quickly averting her eyes as he looked up at her. The Hound had never been much for table manners, but he used them here, begrudgingly so, as it felt necessary, another thing he hated about this damn whore. But if he hated it, why did he keep coming back?

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being their cutlery on the plates. The food was good, he had to admit it, but then what did he expect from Petyr Baelish. The man was a snake but he liked the finer things in life, what surprised him was how he allowed his whores the same fineries. Sandor dared to look up at her, he supposed she wasn't a typical whore.

His belly full, Sandor sat back in his chair, watching Elyria through narrowed eyes. She didn't eat nearly as much as he but he didn't care. He was hungry and she was tiny. But then she began to wrap her food up quietly placing it in the linen napkins that came with her meal. She stopped when she saw him watching her, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"We're allowed one meal a day." She whispered, standing to take her bundled napkin to her vanity. He grunted in reply, watching her walk. _So that's how Littlefinger afforded his whores a meal, the cheap jack ass._

"You still want to know my name, girl?" He gruffed, much to Elyria's surprise. She turned to him with wide eyes, her expression making Sandor want to kick himself. Why did he open his big mouth? "Wipe that look off your face before I change my mind."

"I apologize, this is just rather unexpected." She resisted regurgitating his words about 'fucking and not making friends' at him. She never expected him to open up her at all and now that she was getting somewhere she'd e damned if she ruined it. The Hound growled, his eyes flickering back to her vanity where she placed her meal. It bothered him, though he didn't know why, even at the castle he got three meals a day.

"Sandor." He told her finally, looking up at her face. "Not _Not Ser_ , not Dog." He debated on adding The Hound to his list but stopped. If she didn't want to call him by his name then that was her fucking problem not his. "Not Fido."

"Sandor," she said quietly as she returned to the table, stacking their plates quietly. He waited, in a surprising amount of suspense, for her to say anything more. "Much better than Fido." She teased, a smirk growing on her face. There it was, her jabs again. "Sand." She gestured to herself.

"Clegane." He told her, eyeing her quietly. "You're a bastard." Sandor stated bluntly. Elyria shrugged, sitting across from him again. _Sand_. He knew that name as something more than a bastard's title. His mind immediately flew to the damned Sand Snakes of the Martell House. But she was tiny, dainty, there wasn't an assassin hiding under her clothes. He took a sip of wine as he studied her small frame. No, he knew what was under her clothes.

"I suppose that's what that means." She mused to herself, picking up her fork and quietly playing with it. Surprisingly, she didn't take the term bastard as the insult that most people did. She received an education, she was loved by her father and his paramour. She was also certain that non of her father's children were legitimate anyways. Her dark eyes flickered up to him and he sat straighter, which delighted her.

"That why you're here, girl? Daddy didn't want to keep his bastard around?" he knew that wasn't true, the Dornish were a strange people. They took paramours and their bastard's were thought of as their own flesh and blood, not something to be ashamed of. He didn't know why he said what he did, but he assumed it had something to do with how well they were getting along. It felt wrong and foreign. She pegged him correctly when she said he was not a fan of intimacy.

"No," She laughed a light and bubbly sound. "My father was quite fond of me." She continued to play with her fork, tapping it lightly on the wooden table. It was a nervous tick. They were getting to close to her past, and thought she was fairly certain he'd never ask her enough questions to get there, Elyria was still wary. Sandor reached over, taking the fork from her and tossing it on to the tray. After the fork was finished with, he took a deep swig of wine.

"Wicked step mother then?" He teased. Teased. The Hound felt a growl grow in his throat. This damn woman.

" _Reading another one of your story books?_ " Elyria gruffed, mimicking him as best she could.

"Fuck off." Sandor scowled, though he couldn't help but give a snort. The wine was setting in by now and he was feeling much less tense. She chuckled at him, throwing her head back as she looked at the ceiling.

"No, no wicked step mother." Elyria sighed, stretching as she did. "I just needed a change of scenery." She told him almost honestly. Elyria bit her lip as she watched him watching her. She could tell his mind was trying to work, though it was clouded with drink. He was trying to figure out her secret, but he couldn't through the fog.

"So you became a whore." He scowled.

"Well, I have always liked sex, my dear Sandor." She whispered, her foreign accent causing him shivers. Sandor felt his prick growing under his armor as she slunk over to him. Elyria pouted playfully, tapping at his breastplate again.

"Oh fuck off." He growled, reaching for the clasps. Elyria watched as he discarded his armor, losing her dress in the process. She pushed Sandor on to the bed, crawling on top of him quietly.

"Someone missed me." She purred, grabbing him lightly, pumping him with her hands. He gave a groan and growled, taking her hips and flipping her over.

* * *

Sandor woke later that night to a dimly lit room and, no surprise, Elyria reading another book. Blinking his eyes a few times, he let the room fade into view, he propped himself up on his pillow.

"Are you reading?" he growled, his words slurred with sleep and drink. Elyria hummed in response, marking her page with her finger before closing it. She smiled at him sweetly, causing him to scowl as he checked out the front cover. It was Dornish. _But of course._

"It's a rather harrowing tale. Filled with knight's and swordfights, a dashing pair of brothers…" Elyria told him happily, seeing the disinterest growing in his eyes. "Quite a few people actually _die_." She whispered to him feverishly. She swore she saw a hint of interest sparkle in his eyes but as soon as it came it was gone.

"Fuck your storybooks." He growled, rolling back over. He'd paid for a full night and he'd be damned if he left early because she wanted to read.

"It's a very popular opera you know."

"I've never fucking heard of it." He shot back, eyes closed.

"The final ballad, when the eldest brother sacrifices his younger sibling to bring their mother back, is used as a lullaby I believe." Elyria smirked at him, the book settled in her lap.

"If you start singing it, I'm fucking leaving." The Hound growled, his body tensing. Elyria didn't care, she knew he wasn't going anywhere after paying the gold he paid.

"How can I repay you brother mine? How can I expect you to forgive? Clinging to the past I she'd our blood and stole your chance to live…" She smirked at him as he rolled over and looked at her in angry disbelief. She continued to sing, however, paying him no mind. Sandor didn't get up though, instead he listened. He found that he did remember this song, his mother would sing it to him when he was younger, before her death.

"Beautiful mother, soft and sweet, although you were gone, I was not complete. Back through the years we reached for you, alas, 'twas not meant to be." Elyria belted. Her voice wasn't very good but she didn't care. The song reminded her of home, before things got complicated. Before her childhood was stolen from her. Once she'd finished, she gave him a satisfied smirk. He growled at her.

"You can't sing for shit, songbird." He barked a laugh, the first real laugh that Elyria had ever heard from him. Elyria smiled at the man next to her putting her book on the nightstand before straddling his hips. She ran a single finger down his chest and then back up, running her hand on his shoulder, before leaning down and whispering into his ear.

"Good thing I'm a whore then, aye?" she chuckled.

"Aye." Sandor agreed, grabbing her hips in his giant hands. He held her there, not moving, not speaking, as his eyes wandered unashamedly over her body. She excited him, that was certain, and he wished that was the only reason he kept coming back to her, but it wasn't. He'd never had a woman talk to him the way that she did, poking fun at him and all around not giving a fuck what he thought about her at all.

Elyria watched him drink her naked body in, completely unabashed, not even trying to hide his wandering eyes. He held her hips firmly, but gently in his calloused hands, running his thumb gently along her hip bone. She wasn't sure what came over her in that moment, but her hand reached out to his forehead, brushing away a stray strand of his stringy, dark hair. He flinched under her touch but said nothing, and she bit her lip as she smiled at him through her lashes.

It was too much for Sandor, too close, and his grip tightened on her hips. He wasn't ready for that intimacy, wouldn't accept it, and he had to put something between her and himself. With only his hands, he lifted her, bringing her down hard on his cock, filling her. She moaned, and with the moan, their moment was lost, which relieved him immensely.

* * *

 **Stay Beautiful!**


	5. Fury of the Stag

**This one is kind of a long one bc I love you guys.**

* * *

Again, Sandor found himself shuddering as he stood in Jofferey's court. The Stark boy, Robb, had won another victory on the battle field, this time taking Jaime Lannister captive, and the ninny king did not like that much at all. He'd been scowling and cursing all day, The Hound took the brunt of his rage, but now he'd called Sansa Stark before him. It was her turn to feel his wrath.

"You need to answer for your brother's latest treason." Jofferey said, obviously from his throne, crossbow in hand.

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I have no part. You know that!" the Stark girl pleaded, like a good little bird. Jofferey scowled, called upon his cousin to tell her what had happened.

"Through some sorcery, your brother felled Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered," Lancel whined. Oh how Sandor hated that git. "After the slaughter, the Northman feasted on the flesh of the slain." The Hound rolled his eyes, fucking exaggeration bordering on lies if he's ever heard it. Sansa whimpered from her spot on the floor and Sandor stood straighter. He hated this, he may be a shitty person, he may have killed before, but never an undeserving little girl.

"Killing you would send your brother a message." Jofferey mulled over, taking aim down the sight of his bow. "but my mother insists on keeping you alive." He finally sighed, dropping his crossbow to the side. The Stark girl seemed relieved, but Sandor was not. "Stand." Sansa did as she was directed and immediately she was on her feet. Her puffy eye flickered to Sandor, scared, unsure, but he couldn't help her, he had no idea what was expected to happen, but he knew it was something vile. "We will have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn." The ninny king called upon one of his men, one that Sandor knew well as a sackless pile of shit. Meryn Trant.

The crown guardsman slowly stepped forward, his empty face eyeing Sansa Stark with a lascivious smile. It made Sandor sick to watch, but what would he do about it? Nothing. He'd rather not end up on a spike.

"Leave her face, I like her pretty." Jofferey ordered him, his only order. Meryn smirked at the king, cracking his knuckles and sparing a glance to the Hound before striking her gut hard. Sandor bit back a frown as the girl's cries of fear and pain were met with dull thuds of Meryn Grant's fists. "My lady is over dressed, unburden her." Jofferey spoke over the violence. Trant was all to eager to oblige and with a satisfied smirk he ripped her back open. Sandor shifted uncomfortably, looking away from the young girl. He enjoyed naked women as much as the next, but not like this.

 _No, you like them Dornish and sassy._ He thought out of the blue, a thought almost as disturbing as what was happening in front of him. He wondered what Elyria would say, what she would do of she'd been this. He knew that she would come to the young Stark girl's aid, she wouldn't let a coward like Meryn Trant get away with this.

"If we want Robb Stark to hear us, were going to have to speak LOUDER." Jofferey spoke again, pulling Sandor from his thoughts. Sansa whimpered in fear, clutching what remained of her dress to her chest. Meryn drew his sword, causing Sandor's breath to hitch as the coward man brought the blade over his head.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Someone shouted from behind the crowd, just in time to stop whatever in the seven hell's almost happened. It was Tyrion Lannister, followed close by his sellsword, a man by the name of Bronn. The imp crossed the hall quickly, for a dwarf, and was standing at Sana'a side in no time. "What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?"

"The kind who serves his king, imp." Trant shot back.

"Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak." The imp's sellsword said, his threat thinly veiled. Sandor smirked to himself, his eyes finding their way to Trant. He didn't like that much.

"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with!" Tyrion demanded. Sandor, who was finding himself ever generous as of late, stepped forward, ripping off his own white cloak and draping it over her shoulders. He felt her tremble underneath his hands, which made him disgusted that he even more the damn thing. The imp continued to berate his nephew, which as hand of the king he is more than able to do.

"No one threatens Your Grace in the presence of his King's guard." Meryn scowled, reaching for his sword hilt.

"I'm not threatening the King, Ser Meryn, I am educating him. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him." Sandor smirked again, oh how he loved when the imp was pestering others besides himself. "That was a threat. See the difference?" Ser Meryn decided to remain quiet, seems he likes his life and would rather not tempt Tyrion's sellsword this day.

* * *

Sandor stood quietly at his post outside of the ninny King's quarters. He would soon be off duty and he'd planned on making his way into the Dorne woman's bed. He had to swallow his smile just thinking about it. The sound of footsteps grew closer and he turned, expecting to find his relief. What he did not expect to find was Tyrion Lannister leading two whores. _No._ One whore and the Dornish Woman.

"What's this then?" He growled, more to Elyria than to Tyrion. Thankfully the dwarf didn't notice, but Elyria did. Elyria watched the man in front of her with wide eyes and a look of pure confusion. He was the last man she expected to see here, her Sandor, and as she looked at him she realized he was thinking the same.

"I've a name day present for my nephew, is he in?"

"No." the Hound growled, still looking at Elyria.

"Shame." Tyrion tutted, turning to look at the girls. Elyria smiled as the imp looked at her, her smile disappearing once the imp turned back around. "I shall just leave them for him. Do make sure he gets them." Tyrion told him, opening the door and leading the women inside. Elyria watched as Ros happily followed, but she found herself trailing behind.

" _What the fuck are you doing here?_ " Sandor asked her, still startled. Elyria looked at him in disbelief.

"Me? It's obvious why I'm here! But you, _Not Ser,_ why are _you_ here?" Elyria whispered at him coolly. She was angry with him, had he lied to her? He must have considering he was wearing the cloak of a King's Guard. " _You lied to me!_ " She hissed, shoving his shoulder. He caught her wrist easily.

"Not here, songbird." He growled, shoving her towards the door.

"I'm not your songbird!" Elyria gave him one more glare over her shoulder, walking inside after her friend. Sandor's stomach did flips. Was he jealous? He couldn't be. He shouldn't be, she was after all a whore. But part of him was jealous that the prick King would have her. But more importantly he felt uneasy. He did not like this at all.

* * *

Elyria and Ros had been left alone for about a half hour, the entire time Ros chirped away about how fun it would be fucking the king. Elyria couldn't listen to her though because beyond those doors, Sandor was standing, caught in his lies. She knew he was a bloody knight.

 _I bet his name isn't even Sandor._ She thought viciously. To say she was hurt was an understatement and a stupid one at that. Why was she hurt? He was just a client! Gods, if her whore mother could her now.

The door creaked open, causing Elyria's head to swim with thought after thought. As it opened she caught sight of Sandor's face, but only momentarily as the young King came into view. She smiled at him, sure that Sandor had seen it too.

"Your Grace!" She called, wearing her most debonair grin. King Jofferey stopped mid doorway. Ros gave Elyria a sly grin before meeting him where he stood.

"Happy name day, your grace!" Ros told him seductively. The Boy King stopped, the door creaking closed behind him. Deep down, Elyria was relieved, she'd rather not have had Sandor watch. _But why?_

"No!" Elyria heard Jofferey say, snapping her back to what was happening on her side of the door. Ros had tried to reach into the boys pants, but he stopped her. Jofferey's eyes found Elyria from where she sat on the bed and she smiled at him as he nodded towards her with his head. "Touch her." He told Ros.

The girls exchanged confused smiles, but neither said a word. It wasn't often that a man refused a prostitute, but sometimes they liked to watch before they jumped in, jitters. Ros obliged the little king, slowly undressing Elyria, who smiled as she did.

"Could you… Hit her?" The King asked suddenly. Elyria and Ros paused, but only long enough to giggle at each other. Elyria climbed out of bed, bending over the end of it seductively while Ros took to spanking her. "My uncle sent you?" The King asked as Ros continued to spank Elyria.

"Yes Your Grace, he chose us himself." Ros told him, hitting Elyria again. Personally, spanking did nothing for the Dornish girl, it was barbaric and violence had no place in the bedroom, but she played the part, moaning when she needed. She heard the King begin to undress as he walked towards them but when he did not touch her, Elyria stood up. There she found the King holding his belt out to Ros.

"Use this." He told the red head, who looked at the belt in shock. Elyria watched him confused, her eyes darting to Ros, who seemed to be asking her permission. Elyria shrugged, smiling at the King seductively as Ros took the belt from him. Then she brought the leather down onto Elyria's bare backside. "Harder" the King said, joining them at the bedside. Elyria went rigid, as did Ros, who hit her again, but not hard enough for his Grace's liking. In an instant, Jofferey had has hand on Ros' neck. "I said harder." He hissed at her, releasing her neck violently.

Elyria took a deep breath but she dared not stand. The air in the room had changed and despite the raging fire, Elyria felt herself grow cold. Her head was swimming with thoughts as Ros looked down at her, afraid. She could run, but she wouldn't make it past the door, The Hound would surely stop her.

Elyria felt the sting of the leather before she even knew what hit her. Ros had brought the belt down hard on her backside and it tore at her viciously. Her skin was on fire and she cried out at the unexpected pain. She knew the King was watching them now, more than likely with a look of sheer joy on his face. Ros brought the belt down again, and again, harder each time, until the sting turned into a constant throb of burning and pain. Elyria remained quiet, now that she knew the whips were coming. She refused to give him an satisfaction so she merely gripped the sheets tighter.

Suddenly, Ros had stopped her beatings and Elyria took a deep, calming breath. She dared to turn around this time, only to find the King holding out to Ros a scepter with a large stag head on the end. Both girls looked at him in horror and Ros dared a look back at Elyria. The Dornish woman was shaking on the bed, she knew what was next.

"Your Grace..." Ros pleaded, taking the stag headed scepter from him. They watched as he crossed to a nearby chair, reloading a giant crossbow. "Too much pain will spoil the pleasure." The boy king said nothing, as he continued to load his weapon. Slowly Ros turned to look at Elyria, who sat frozen on his bed. "Your Grace, if your uncle finds out-" She started again, only to be interrupted by Jofferey.

"Oh I want him to find out. You will bring her to his chambers when you're finished and show him what you've done." He told her, leveling his crossbow at the both of them. By this time Elyria had turned on the bed, kneeling to face them. She did not cry, she did not beg. Elyria knew that any of that would have only added to his gratification. "Or the same thing will happen to you." Ros began shaking her head, but Elyria stopped her, she knew what needed to be done.

"Just do it," Elyria whispered. She could take a hit or two, hopefully The Hound outside would help them, hopefully someone would come. Ros began to weep, shaking her head, she couldn't beat her friend. "Just do it-Ros-ROS! FUCKING HIT ME GOD DAMMIT!"

"I'm so sorry!" Ros cried, raising the stag head. She brought the weapon down with such force that when it struck Elyria it knocked her from the bed and onto the floor. Elyria's head hit the floor hard, knocking her dizzy and caused the earth to spin. Her cheek was on fire and when she reached up to touch it she found a gash from just under her eye to the bottom of her jaw. It was bleeding profusely and she was certain that it had cut through her cheek.

Elyria, not as hardened to pain as she used to be, whimpered as she saw Ros round the corner of the bed. The girl was crying and she descended upon her friend quickly, raising again the stag headed scepter. Elyria closed her eyes, screaming as the scepter connected with the floor above her head. Looking up at her friend she could see Ros was no dummy. Jofferey hadn't moved to watch them, the sounds were enough, and all that Elyria had to do was play along.

The Dornish woman took a hit to her abdomen, groaning in pain and then another hit to the floor by her head. Several pummels later, Ros stood, giving Elyria a grave look. _Shut up._ It said and she didn't need to tell Elyria twice. The girl was half conscious, that first hit to her head was a whallop if she'd ever felt one, and her face was wet with blood, as well as the floor around her. It was a bleeder, but it was a good thing, Joffrey would think that she had been bludgeoned more than she had.

The rest of the world was a blur. Elyria felt Ros pick her up, her feet dragging against the cold stone floor. She remembered seeing Jofferey's cold, evil smile as he held the door open for them. Elyria remembered the hall was emptied, and the steps were painful, the pair fell numerous times, Elyria's dead weight too much for Ros to handle. Her side burned and her face was numb, it hurt to breath. She tried in vain to reach a hand up to her face but Ros stopped her.

"Don't touch it love," Ros cooed her through her own tears. Once they'd finally gotten to Tyrion's chambers, the room was much fuller than Elyria would have hoped. Tyrion had a whore in his bed and she screeched, loudly, while two giant men stood around them. Ros, unable to hold Elyria any longer, dropped both of them to the stone floor. Hands, hands everywhere, two tall men and a short one, Tyrion Lannister.

"What the fuck were you thinking you shitty imp?!" One voice roared, close to Elyria's ear. That voice. It was her Hound. Huge calloused hands held her tightly, as another, smaller hand brushed her cheek. Elyria cried out in pain and her Hound growled again.

"I didn't know he would do _this_."

"He didn't do this! I did! _He made me do it!_ " Ros was in hysterics, her voice going in and out.

"She's still breathing!" Sandor exclaimed wildly. _Breathing, but barely._ He noticed. Carefully he moved her to Tyrion's nearby bed. He'd half expected him to object, but the short Lannister didn't. Tyrion pushed him away, touching her neck softly. He was looking for a pulse, which even Sandor could have told him she had.

"Bronn, Maester Pycelle and quickly." Tyrion told him gravely, turning on the Hound. "You. Out."

"Fuck off." Sandor spat at him, going to walk past him. When he'd heard the screaming he immediately ran for the imp, hoping he would go and check on his nephew, Sandor had been to much a coward to stop the boy himself. But when the girls entered Tyrion's chamber, all Sandor felt was regret. He should have stopped him himself.

Tyrion threw up his hands, as if in defeat.

"I can only imagine how you know this woman, and I am truly sorry. But you need to escort Miss Rosslyn home safely and you need to return to Jofferey's guard." That was the very last thing Clegane wanted to do. He'd rather wring the bitch King's neck. He had gone too far this time.

"Like hell I'm gonna be taking any orders from you, imp."

"Do you want her safe, Clegane?!" His question stopped Sandor in his tracks. Of course he wanted her safe. Tyrion took his silence as answer enough. "then you need to return to normal. If Joffrey were to find out that she'd survived…" the imp needn't finish. Sandor huffed, frustrated before turning to the other whore.

"Get up girl." He scowled at her, taking her upper arm roughly.

* * *

 **Stay Beautiful!**


	6. King of the Bloody Andals

**Welcome back lovely readers :)**

* * *

It had been two weeks since the incident with Jofferey and Elyria and the other whore whose name was inconsequential. As far as Sandor knew Elyria had returned to her normal routine. She stayed in the castle a week while she was recuperating, unbeknownst to the queen or the king. Sandor stopped by once, the next day, before she woke up, but was quickly ushered out and was told that he was not allowed to visit. He'd usually tell them to fuck off and do as he pleases, but then he remembered how viciously the King had her beaten. He didn't want him to finish the job.

The Hound hadn't had a day off since the incident occurred. They were on the brink of war with Stannis Baratheon, and several days after the beating, the King's entourage had been attacked while seeing princess Myrcella off to Dorne. That was an awful day as he had to save the ninny King when all he wanted to do was let him rot. But he had saved the young Stark girl as well, which he supposed was alright. Sandor was certain that Elyria would have been proud of him.

The Dornish girl did nothing but live in his thoughts and as he made his way to Littlefinger's brothel, a strange feeling crept over him. Fuck all, he was nervous. The pleasure house was not so crowded, for which he was thankful, and he scanned the crowd of women for any sign of her. She wasn't there, but the redhead whore from that night, Ros, approached him cautiously.

"She's in her room, Ser." The girl told him quietly.

"I'm not Ser." The Hound told her, brushing past her and to Elyria's door. The red head stopped him.

"She's not seeing anyone." Ros told him, to which he growled at her.

"She will see me." The redhead nodded, opening the door quietly and peeking her head in. After a moment she came back out, frowning at Sandor quietly.

"She's asleep."

"I'll wait quietly." Sandor scowled, stepping into Elyria's room without another word. In all of his weeks of coming here, he had never seen the woman sleep. She was always up before him in the morning and he was always the first to sleep at night, so to see her fast asleep on her bed was a new sight.

The girl's room was slightly lessened of light. Several meals sat untouched where the girls had left them for Elyria and the flowers she had in her vases were all dead. Despite the fact that she was sleeping, she still looked tired, and Sandor had to watch for her breathing to be sure she was really alive. As quietly as his big body allowed, he took a seat at her vanity, elbows on his knees.

"Hound…?" A soft voice came, Elyria's voice, and the girl stirred under her sheets. Elyria thought she was seeing things but even after her eyes adjusted he still sat there.

"Hello, songbird."

"I'm not a songbird." She tutted weakly, one finger up as she shook it at him. "You said I couldn't sing for shit."

"Aye… you can't." The Hound joked with her. Elyria sat up slowly, brushing her hair from her face. It was unkempt and unruly but that was not what caught his attention. There on her cheek sat a jagged pink scar. The sutures had been removed, but the scar still remained, a reminder of her grim evening at the Red Keep.

"Will you hand me my hairbrush? I'd like to brush my hair…" Elyria trailed off, turning her face so he couldn't see her marred cheek. Elyria knew her face was ugly, she'd been told by quite a few John's that it was undesirable.

"I don't give a fuck what your hair looks like." Sandor told her impatiently. Elyria's hands dropped solemnly to her lap. Elyria went silent, staring at one of vases. She wasn't angry with him, simply disappointed.

"Shouldn't you be with your King?" She spat the word.

"Fuck him. And Fuck his crown. The little bastard doesn't deserve it." His answer made Elyria feel slightly better, but not by much.

"So. Should we just start where we left off then? I'll just let you in my bed and forget about that night? Or would you like a sack to put over my face before we begin?" Elyria chided him. Sandor growled, standing as he did.

"I didn't come here to pay my way into your sheets, Elyria. Nor did I come here to be yelled at. I don't give a fuck what your face looks like either, so don't go reading into that bullshit like the woman you are." He'd never used Elyria's name in a sentence before. Songbird, yes. Girl, even, but never her name. Elyria was beginning to think he'd forgotten it entirely.

"Why did you leave that night? I know you heard me screaming." Elyria asked him, her voice breaking. Sandor breathed deeply as he attempted to ignore the way she looked at him so disappointed.

"And what would you have had me do? Kill him? Beat him until he let the whore stop? Your memory may be hazy so let me remind you, Songbird; he is the fucking King. He would have had all of our heads on a spike had I barged into that room." Sandor growled, standing. Though he knew his words to be true, he still felt cowardly. "I ran to get the imp, he was the only way to stop the little shit." Elyria didn't say a word to him, still looking at her vase in defiance.

"You lied to me." Elyria whispered. She gave up on arguing her rescue. She knew he was right, it was a moot point. He did the only thing he could do which was to get help from someone in charge. Someone the King couldn't outright murder.

" _What?_ " Sandor asked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. _He did what?_ The Dornish woman looked at him fiercely, so fiercely in fact that he was certain that she could send him up in flames with a single look.

"You lied to me about being a knight! You and your King's Guard cloak! I bet that was quite the laugh you had at my expense!" Elyria yelled at him full tilt. Sandor sneered at her, gripping his chair with his giant hand so hard his knuckles hurt. "Is your name even Sandor or should I go back to calling you Fido-?"

"ENOUGH WOMAN." Sandor roared, tossing the chair to the ground. It broke as it made contact with the stone floor and Elyria jumped in her bed, clutching her blankets to her chest. "I am not a liar. I never once told you lies." He spat her, his blood hot. Elyria's heart was going a mile a minute and she found that she was terrified of the man in front of her. "But would it even matter? You're a whore! I could tell you I'm he King of the bloody Andals and it shouldn't matter! I pay you to take my prick and you deserve nothing more than what I tell you!" The words came before he could even stop them, but he wished he had. The way she looked at him was enough to break even his stone heart. Elyria clutched her sheets to herself, knees pulled to her chest , eyes wide with fear, it almost seemed like she was afraid he would pounce on her and he was reminded just how tiny she was, even if she had the mouth of a giant. Sandor may have been a shitty person, he'd never hurt someone who didn't deserve it, but Elyria didn't know that. "A Hound will die for you, but he will never lie to you." Sandor finished quietly, regurgitating his family words as he fumbled desperately for something to say.

"Leave." Elyria spoke quietly, her voice barely a whisper. She was beyond hurt, and tears threatened her eyes. Sandor inhaled deeply, reigning his anger in a little to late.

"Songbird-"

"I am not your fucking Songbird, Dog!" Elyria spat at him. "Leave it to silly Elyria, the Dornish cunt, to believe that anyone could have feelings for a whore! And mark her even more dumb to reciprocate those empty feelings!" The Hound was struck dumb as the woman he'd come to know as strong, crumbled before him. Had she just told him that she had feelings for him…? "I do not wish to see you right now, so _LEAVE!_ " Elyria shouted at the top of her lungs. Her throat was sore and her voice echoed off the stone walls around them. She was vulnerable and had just bared all of her emotions for him to see.

Sandor scowled, more to himself than her, as he stood in her chambers dumbly. His eyes found her face, once again tracing the fresh, pink wound that was her left cheek. She noticed, looking away from him so he could no longer see her scar. With a heavy heart, the Hound turned, stomping towards the door, he wasn't angry at her, quite the contrary, he was angry at himself. He regretted speaking to her like that because now he was finding that he didn't believe his words to be true. She wasn't a whore to him anymore, she wasn't some Dornish woman he'd fucked. She was more than that now.

"I-" Sandor froze, his hand on the door knob as he looked back at her. She watched him expectantly, but apologies were never his strong suit. The Hound growled, throwing open the door and slamming it just as violently. He knew that she was crying, he knew the she was upset. And, _fuck all,_ the way he cared.

* * *

 **Stay Beautiful!**


	7. Like a Dog

**Yeesh my bad ya'll. Fprgpt what day it was lmfao!**

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Petyr Baelish was angry. Things were not going how he wanted them, and the Game of Thrones was quickly swaying out of his favor. The boy King Jofferey had also recently taken to assaulting two of his best whores, one of which he damaged her pretty face and body. When Tyrion had brought Baelish to his girl, the Lord had been completely in shock. What would he do now? She was one of his best. Now who would want to sleep with a face like that? Being a Lannister, the imp had paid him a considerable amount of gold for damages to the girl, after snarking something about "people for wares" and "morality." Good old Lannister's, always paying their debts.

Baelish had himself another problem; the King's Hound had been sniffing around his pleasure house the past months, ever since Elyria arrived from Dorne. That would usually be all well and good, but he didn't like the fact that it was only her he'd laid with. And they were all night affairs. If it were discovered that Petyr had smuggled Elyria from her father, he'd aided in her desertion, the Sand Snakes would surely want his head as well as her own. And if that were to get back to the Queen… well he would be stuck under her thumb for eternity.

So now Petyr Baelish decided he'd slink through the castle and speak with this Hound, figure out exactly what he knew. There were ways of making that dog talk, but Baelish knew he couldn't very well hold a torch to his face, no, he have to be far more subtle than that. He knew he could out smart the dog. Petyr found The Hound standing quietly outside of King Jofferey's quarters, the beast scowled at him as he approached.

"Ah, Hound, just the man I wanted to see." Sandor Clegane narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him, scowling at him before answering.

"What do you want, Littlefinger." Petyr smiled at the man as he spared no formalities. Might as well dive right in.

"I've seen your comings and goings lately. Tell me, how fares the lonely dog?" Petyr asked him. The Hound snorted at him, his face, and temper, sour, as per usual.

"Fuck your insults, clown. I haven't time for 'em." The Hound told him, immediately ignoring the man. It didn't bother Baelish, though.

"I've just noticed your particular interest in my Dornish lady. I was wondering if that's a recent development or have you always had a kink for the foreign?" Sandor paused, shifting his weight so the he would seem bigger. It was never a good thing when a pimp asked about his women, Sandor had learned that the hard way, and with that one question, Sandor was put on high alert.

"Why do you care what I put my dick in, twat?" Sandor scowled, trying to maintain his air of fuck it all. Petyr Baelish smiled, he could see through this Hound. He'd spent his life toying and playing with others. This Hound was as transparent as a pane of glass.

"Oh, I rightly don't. I just heard your spat last night, seemed more of a lovers quarrel than a disagreement between buyer and seller." Littlefinger prodded. Sandor swallowed hard the word seller in regards to Elyria's body.

"Fuck your riddles." Sandor spat, eyeballing the man. "What is it you want? And quickly. I don't have patience for little cunts like you." Petyr bit back a smirk, exactly where he wanted him.

"With her face the way it is, she's not getting much business. I just wanted to offer you a discounted night with another of my girls because I'm afraid the next time you have a chance to get in, Elyria may not be there." Baelish drawled. Sandor narrowed his eyes at the man, his fist clenching. _Don't hit him, don't hit him, don't hit him._ "I mean, I can't afford to board her and feed her considering she hasn't had a paying client in weeks. You see, men like to look at a pretty face when they're fuck-"

Sandor just could not contain himself anymore and he shoulder checked Petyr Baelish hard into the wall next to him. Littlefinger merely smirked at the man, his mouth an "oh" of recognition. Sandor nearly shook with rage, how could he have been so stupid? To fall for the dumb cunt's silly games.

"I knew it wouldn't be hard, Hound. I toy with men much smarter than you everyday." Sandor held the man harder to the wall, but his smirk only widened. "You're a stupid man, falling for a whore." And with an impressive show of strength, Littlefinger pushed Sandor aside, straightening his shirt and collar, before walking off down the hall, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Oh, and good luck tonight, I've heard rumors that Stannis' fleet should arrive within hours."

Sandor's stomach did flips. He was angry and, dare he say it afraid. He needed to get to Elyria and he had to see her before the Baratheon's fleet arrived. He felt the urge to warn her of Petyr Baelish's treachery, but something deep down inside of him told him she'd find out soon, if she didn't already know.

"Ah, fuck me." He muttered, as he sighed and began to leave his post. He knew he had to protect her this time. The ninny king would wait, the boy liked him, even though Sandor would love nothing more than to body slam the brat into dust. He would have to be quick, he didn't have long until he had to be at the front line.

* * *

It was dark by the time that Petyr Baelish returned to the brothel, and the entire house was in an outrage. Ros was missing, she'd gone with a John the night prior and still had not returned. Elyria was the first to spot him as he entered, heading immediately for his office. Quickly she followed him, startling him as she entered.

"Master Baelish." Her voice came quietly and he turned, scared. She was not someone you would want sneaking up on you.

"What?!" He barked, less eloquently than usual. Elyria bowed her head in apologies. Petyr took a deep breath. "What is it?" He said again, more calm now.

"It's Ros. She's missing." Elyria said after a short pause. Littlefinger had a nasty habit of shooting the messenger, but she knew if he'd remained in the dark, he would have only been angrier. Petyr stood quietly, letting the news sink in. He had a feeling that he knew where she was, but he didn't have time to worry about that.

"She will turn up." He said finally. Elyria frowned at his display if apathy towards someone that she viewed as a friend, but she nodded all the same, turning to leave him. "Wait." He said quietly. Dread filled Elyria's belly as she turned to face him. He studied her quietly, crossing the room until he was standing in front of her. "How has today gone?"

"How do you mean?" Elyria knew exactly what he was talking about, but she decided to buy herself some time to think of a less disappointing way to tell him. Petyr narrowed his eyes at the whore, cocking his head to one side before speaking again.

"I didn't stutter." Elyria's heart sank, he was aggravated. She swallowed slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

"I haven't had a client." Her voice was quiet and Elyria found herself surprisingly afraid of this man. She knew that she could end him, but then what? Kill the King's treasurer and run? Where too? "I'm sorry, I've been trying but they-" In an instant, Elyria felt his hand at her throat as he shoved her against the closed door behind her. Her eyes went wide with fear as she clawed at his hands and his face. He slammed her again, her arms going slack at her sides.

"I have been kind to you, haven't I, Elyria?" he asked her. She sputtered against his grip, which only tightened the longer she didn't answer. She nodded quickly in reply. "I've clothed you, I've fed you, I've given you freedom from your sisters, from your family. You're allowed to come and go as you please, within reason, and all I've asked in return is for you to make me some money. Have I expected to much of you?" Petyr Baelish asked her again. Elyria had finally stopped fighting against him, finding that the harder she fought the tighter he held on to her neck.

"No…" she whispered.

"Then why is it that you haven't had a client one these past several weeks?" Elyria said nothing, still watching Littlefinger quietly. "You will have one by the end of this week, or I will return you to The King. He's been feeling tense because of the oncoming battle. I'm sure he would like some victory cunt once he bests his uncle." His threat did not fall on deaf ears and he released her harshly. Elyria coughed violently, her hands grabbing at her neck. "Oh, and Elyria," Petyr called from his desk as he sifted through several papers. "The King's dog doesn't count."

"Yes Master Baelish." She bowed, feeling dirty. She could have killed him, should have killed him. She could survive on her own for a while, even if she didn't know Westeros very well. But even though she was thinking confident thoughts, she still scurried from his room, tail tucked between her legs. Her neck burned and she knew it would be a bruise before morning.

Quickly, Elyria made it to her chamber doors, avoiding eye contact with her fellow workers and the few clients who had entered Littlefinger's brothel while she was in his office. She would need to cover up her face and neck quickly before they all left. She entered her room and was only half surprised to see Sandor waiting by her bedside. The pair said nothing as they looked each other up and down, subconsciously, Elyria's hand flew to her neck.

"You need to leave." Elyria told him quickly as she crossed to her vanity. The Hound said nothing, but she could hear his boots tapping on the ground as he joined her at her table. His gaze pierced her, she could feel it on the back of her neck. With a gentle hand, he took her shoulder, spinning her around.

"Baelish did that to you." It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer, and he softly ran his thumb along the dark bruise on her neck. It looked fresh and he kicked himself for not getting here sooner. Elyria remained quiet, but she knew that was answer enough, and Sandor growled, looking at her door. He could kill Littlefinger and get away with it, he was sure he could. The Queen's Regent hated him anyways. He'd probably get a bloody promotion.

"You need to leave." Elyria urged him again but she didn't move as his fingers traced her neck. Sandor didn't respond to her, he only watched her quietly, as she began to wilt in front of him. "I haven't had a client in weeks. If I don't fuck somebody he's going to return me to King's Landing." She whispered. Slowly, Sandor reached into his pocket, producing his change purse. Elyria sighed, exasperated. "I'm not taking your money, Clegane. You don't count and if he catches me I'd hate to see what he'll do before he sends me to the git king."

"I'd like to see him try." The Hound barked, catching Elyria off guard.

"Why are you here?" Elyria questioned him, her hand finding his on her neck. She cupped it gently.

"Stannis Baratheon's fleet will be arriving soon." He told her, not really sure what to say. He'd come to protect her from Baelish, to warn her, but he'd been too late, judging from her neck and her shaken appearance. Elyria watched him quietly, a question in her eyes. "You should stay in tonight, Songbird."

"You're worried about me?" She purred, hiding her obvious shock. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Sandor didn't speak for a very long minute as he weighed his options carefully.

"Aye," He said finally. Elyria went to speak, but before she could, Sandor dropped his head, where his lips met hers. The kiss was tentative, unsure, but he did it all the same. He might die tonight and if he did he knew he wanted her lips to be his last memory. Elyria was shocked, he'd never kissed her before, it had been too intimate a thing, and his lips on hers set her heart alight. She pressed up onto her toes, kissing him back in earnest.

Slowly, clumsily, the Hound moved his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him as her hands found his chest. Elyria smiled into the kiss, he'd taken off his armor before she'd arrived, and she grabbed a hand full of his shirt in her small hands.

The pair made their way to her bed, where Sandor sat down, bringing her down with him in a heap. He broke the kiss, staring at her quietly, breath heavy. Elyria searched his eyes for something, anything, before she continued, some kind of sign that it was okay to kiss him again. Without thinking, Sandor brought his hand to her cheek, tracing her pink, puckered flesh gently. Elyria attempted to pull free her face, but he held her cheek firmly in his calloused hand. Again he kissed her, this one more wanton and needy.

His hands found their way to her hips and she ground them hungrily into his. He growled, it's sound heavy with lust, and he began to fiddle with the pins for her sheer robe. After several seconds it fell from her shoulders and Elyria broke the kiss, only to strip out of the robes and fiddle with his belt. Surprisingly he stopped her, reaching again into his pocket.

"If you try to give me your fucking purse I will slap you." Elyria told him, again kissing him hungrily. "I'm not taking your money anymore, lover." She broke the kiss again, to whisper. Sandor's stomach did pleasant flips and his hand found it's way to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her mess of thick black hair.

* * *

 **Stay Beautiful!**


	8. Fuck The Blackwater

**So. It's been a while since I;ve updated and that is because some ASSHOLE stole my tablet. Which had all of my current chapters a notes for this story on it. so this will be my last update for a while, until i can write it... again.**

* * *

Sandor Clegane sat quietly at the top of The Red Keeps Walls. IN the distance he could see the sails of Stannis Baratheon's ships, yet the harbor of The Lannister's side sat oddly empty. Their fleet was nowhere in sight and it left him feeling incredibly grim and antsy. He fiought the urge to pace, which he knew would have made him feel tenfold better.

"Hound, tell him that his King has asked him a question." King Joffrey's voice came suddenly. Sandor, who had not heard what the Ninny King said in the first place, rolled his eyes, biting back a sigh.

"The King has asked you a question." Sandor replied, completely lack luster, though he doubt the King could hear his distaste in his voice. The imp, who Jofferey had addressed, did not turn around when he spoke.

"Sir Lancel. Tell the Hound to tell the King that The Hand is _extremely_ busy." Lancel Turned to the Hound awkwardly, Sandor watched him from the corner of his eyes, annoyed.

"Hound, The Hand of the King would like me to tell you to tell the King that-"

"If I tell the Hound to cut you in half, he'll do it without a second thought!" The Ninny King informed the imp. Oh how Sandor loved when Joffrey spoke for him.

"Then that would make me the quarter man." Tyrion Lannister shot back with no hesitation. "It just doesn't have the same ring to it." He hummed, turning back to the bay. "Cut me in half and I wont be able to give the signal, no signal, no plan. No plan and Stannis Baratheon sacks this city, takes the Iron Throne and puts your pinched little head atop a gate somewhere." Tyrion paused, smiling impishly at the King. "It might be quite amusing, except that my head would be up there too. I much like my head and don't want to see it removed just yet." The Hound smirked to himself as the Ninny king sat speechless. For what it was worth, he decided he liked the imp.

The imp began calling for archers to make their marks and to ready the citadel walls. Sandor could feel the adrenaline pumping through his temples. Tyrion told them to hold, obviously to wait for a clear target, but Jofferey didn't have much patience and he started berating his uncle. The two began to bicker, but Sandor drowned them out, he needed to focus on what was ahead of him.

The Hound was surprised to see only one Lannister ship on the horizon. This was quiet irregular, he had no idea what the imp had been planning, and that fact scared him. Now he did not know what to expect and he did not like it one bit. He growled under his breath and swore that next time he would make himself privy to the Short Lords plans before barging in half baked.

Next to him, the imp took a torch from once of their fellow soldiers, waving it much to close for Sandor's comfort. He flinched, flinched, as he stepped aside, his heart going, but he did not miss Tyrion drop the torch from where he stood on the wall. It was quiet for several seconds, until a single flaming arrow cut through the sky from an island in front of them. Sandor watched it fly, his head cocked, because what would a single arrow do? The arrow made its way to the ocean by Stannis Baratheon's fleet, where he expected it to fizzle as it hit the water. Fizzle it did not, and instead ignited the bay in an eruption of green.

"Wildfire..." He whispered to himself, as he braced against the explosion. The sky went up green, half of Stannis's fleet consumed by it's heat. He could hear the Baratheon men screaming and the heat of the flames caused the hound to take several shallow breaths. He could feel his resolve withering. He did not like fire.

Surprisingly enough, what remained of Stannis men began to row towards the walls in row boats, they planned to take the city still. Sandor, who had yet to recover fully from the fiery explosion, watched as their archers took aim with their fire tipped arrows. Men fell on the beach below, their comrades in arms running past them, yelling war cries. The Baratheon men grew too close to the walls for arrows to be effective and instead the Lannister men took to throwing rocks over the parapets.

It was now the Hound's turn as he led his men quickly down through Wall Mud and onto teh battle field. As he led his men out onto the battle field he knew he was in his element. He could feel his confidence returning as he took that first step onto the beach.

"Any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" He shouted as his soldiers ran past him. Bloodshed all around him as he swung his mighty sword, taking an arm, a leg or a head with it. Bodies dropped around him, the wailing of men could be heard. His sword was heavy, but he swung away, piling up bodies in his wake.

Several feet away, screaming could be heard, and Sandor looked up to find a Baratheon soldier running at him full force. Usually Sandor would have dealt with him easily, but the man was a giant fireball with legs. The Hound froze instantly, his fear hitting him in waves. His sword shook violently in his hand as the soldier grew closer, and his mind flew to Elyria. Would she miss him? What would happen to her if he were gone? Surprisingly, the man dropped a few feet from Sandor's frozen form, but it was not by his hands.

"Fuck me." Sandor coughed, his throat tight as he stared down at the man. Looking over he spotted the imp's sell sword holding a bow and baring a cheeky grin. Bronn seemed like he was going to say something to Sandor, but stopped as several Baratheon men rushed him.

It was in this moment that Sandor took in his surroundings: The beach was on fire from the debris that had floated in from Blackwater Bay. He noticed his numbers had dwindled from many to too few in mere minutes, they were outnumbered by the Baratheon's, out numbered and their formation was in shambles. Everywhere he looked men died or fire burned, and in a stupor he turned back for the Wall door.

Once inside, the door was barricaded behind him and immediately he called for a page boy. The boy offered him a drink skin, which he took eagerly. It was water and he spat it over the young boy. He needed a drink right now, he needed to sort out his emotions. _Damn that Dornish woman!_

"Fuck the water. Bring me wine!" He shouted, to which the boy handed him another skin. He drank from it in big gulps, taking several before removing the flask from his lips.

"Can I get you anything? A nice bowl of raspberries maybe?" He heard the imp complain from above him on the stairs. Sandor regarded him with contempt from where he stood below.

"Eat shit dwarf." Sandor scowled, taking another swig of wine. The imp was going to lecture him? After he'd just been on the battlefield? _Hah, no._

"You're on the wrong side of the wall." The Short Lord told him. Sandor spared a glance at the wall before returning his gaze to the imp.

"Imagine that." Sandor told him coolly. Tyrion Lannister gave him a deathly glare and Sandor sighed. "I lost half my men. The Blackwater is on fire."

"Dog! I command you to go back out there and fight!" The Ninny King shouted from behind the imp. Sandor took a calming breath, looking at the ground as he did. The brat always had to be commanding someone, or beating them. Elyria. Sandor dared not look up at his king because he knew if he did the boy would see the hate in his eyes,

"You're Kings Guard, Clegane! You must beat them back or they are going to take this city. your king's city!" The Little Lannister tried to rally him, but it fell on deaf ears. The Hound was angry and he was tired. He was afraid and he was done with the other side of that wall. If they'd wanted his help they should have not laid a fiery waste to it.

"Fuck the King's Guard." He said finally, looking at his wine skin. He took another drink, feeling both the Imp's eyes and King Jofferey's on him. "Fuck the city." He took another swig, this one burned his throat, and he looked up at his Ninny King. "Fuck the King." He spat, tossing the now empty wine skin to the ground.

Without another word he turned and walked away. It was not until he'd reached the gates for the city that he'd realized what he'd done. He'd committed treason and he knew he'd surely lose his head for it. Sandor needed to leave, that much was certain, and he made his way to the Royal Stables for his horse. Elyria. He thought suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

"Ah fuck me."


	9. The Cunt Sword of a Liar

**GUYS. I FOUND THE MISSING SANDOR CLEGANE FILES DEEP DEEP DEEP IN MY EMAILS. EYYY**

* * *

Littlefinger's brothel was empty that night save for its whores. Ros had returned several hours ago, her face bloodied and bruised but now a new threat loomed; The Battle of Blackwater Bay. The girl's could only listen as the battle raged outside of the city walls and most of them cowered in fear at the screams.

Elyria sat quietly next to Ros' bed, the girl hadn't wanted to be alone and she wouldn't say what happened to her, so Elyria made to sit next to her sleeping form. The Dornish girl waited patiently all night, even through the ear piercing loudness of the explosion that she could see from Ros' window. It was green and angry and she swore she felt a wave of heat hit her face.

It was then that she broke into Baelish's office and took up his sword. It was smaller than swords she'd used before and she hadn't held one in quite sometime, as she had been partial to spears and halberds, but she remembered how to use one and she sure as hell wasn't letting anyone take her alive. So Elyria fidgeted quietly at Ros' bedside, the sword unsheathed and draped across her lap. One hand rested on it's hilt while the other nervously played with her hair, but her eyes never left the door to Ros' room.

There was a ruckus in the common area and she heard several of her fellow workers raise their voices. Heavy footsteps thudded through the common area and Elyria could hear the slam of a door. _Her_ door. The Dornish woman stood, taking several steps forward, only to be stopped by Ros' light hand on her wrist, she'd been woken up by the noise outside. Elyria gave her a weak smile before gently tugging her wrist free.

The Dornish woman had no sooner sunk into a defensive stance, than the door came crashing open. She was surprised to see Sandor Clegane come barreling in, his face bloodied and his breathing heavy. He looked as terrified as a giant man like him could possibly look. The Hound looked down at his songbird in confusion, the point of her sword nearly touching the tip of his nose.

"Oh fuck off and get that tooth pick out of my face." He growled, shoving it to the side with two gloved fingers. Elyria scowled at him, turning back to Ros to check on the poor woman.

"Are you mad! I could have killed you!" She hissed, sheathing the weapon.

"Not with that cunt sword you couldn't have." He told her, throwing a look over his shoulder. The coast was clear, he hadn't been followed… Yet. "Get your things. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Elyria barked out a laugh. Until she realized he was not joking. "I'm not going anywhere! I'm needed here!"

"For what?" Sandor scoffed, catching Elyria off guard. "So you can be a whore and make money for someone who threatened your life just earlier today?" He reasoned with her. Elyria frowned, biting her lip. She felt Ros sit up in her bed, squeezing Elyria's hand tightly. "I've just deserted my post! They'll put my head on a spike and what do you think is going to happen to you if Littlefinger let's it slip that you're my lover?"

"He's right you know." Ros agreed weakly. "Littlefinger doesn't care what happened to us. He'll turn you in in a heartbeat."

"And go where?" Elyria's voice broke as she tried to still the way her heart beat at the way he said lover. Of course she wanted to go with him, but where too? How long could they hide from the Lannister's and Littlefinger's birds? "I'm not sure if you've realized but we have pissed off two of the most reached cunts in all of Westeros."

"I haven't figured that out yet but if you stay you've just signed your death certificate." Sandor was practically begging her. Elyria looked again at Ros, who gave her a weak smile. She knew that he was right, she knew that she couldn't stay. King's Landing was too dangerous a place.

"Fine." She relented finally and Sandor felt his heart soar. "It won't take long for me to pack. We have time, Littlefinger is not here." Elyria told him, taking the sheathed sword in her hand. He raised an eyebrow to her and she sighed. "What?"

"You're taking the cunt sword?" He asked her. Elyria gawked at him, wide eyed.

" _Yes I'm taking the cunt sword!_ " She scoffed, pushing past him, muttering under her breath curses as she went to go pack.

* * *

They rode long and hard west for most of the night, neither of them knowing where they were going. Sandor had warned her that their stops would be short and they would not happen often for the first few weeks. Neither of them could afford to get caught now, not after they'd made such a successful escape. Elyria did not argue with him, she knew how dangerous it would be to stop at a major inn or farmhouse within a days ride of King's Landing. The last thing they needed was to walk into a Lannister aligned household.

It was only after agreeing to ride for as long as he wanted, that Elyria regretted her decision. The Hound rode his horse hard and she was unaccustomed to the rough ride. It had been so long since she'd ridden a horse that after the first hour her arms began to throb, then after the first several hours her thighs followed suit. She'd managed to find a pair of riding leather pants and a tunic shirt, what she'd worn when she left Dorne, and even through the thick material her legs still chaffed.

It was nearly morning, if Elyria turned she could see the sun faintly at their backs. Her head lolled painfully, she hadn't slept all night, which jarred her neck with a loud crack. With a sharp cry Elyria clutched her head, but if Sandor noticed he did not stop, even if he did clutch her waist tightly from behind.

"Stop! Stop _please_!" Elyria begged him. Sandor growled, but he did as she asked him, drawing his horse off the main road and deep into the tree line. In one smooth move, he dismounted, turning to help Elyria as well.

"I warned you Songbird, there would be no stops for a while!" He practically snarled, but Elyria didn't care. She took his hand all the same, clumsily climbing down from his steed. When her feet hit the ground she crumbled, her jelly legs unable to hold her weight. Sandor frowned at her, feeling a slight guilt for yelling at her.

"I'm sorry but I have to take a break. I can't feel my legs and my back is killing me." She tried not to whine but that's what came out of her mouth. "I'm not accustomed to horseback like you are and without a place to go we'll be riding for days! We need a plan!" Elyria told him. Sandor had to admit she was right, they needed a plan of action and after a few minutes of debating he had one.

"We'll go to Dorne." Elyria shook her head furiously. Dorne wasn't a option, she'd be killed and so would he. "Swallow your pride little girl! Just because things didn't go your way-"

"In Dorne I'm a deserter! My Step Mother and Sisters will kill us both." Elyria shouted, her voice echoing off the trees. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes growing wide with shock. "Fuck me." She muttered, now the cat was out of the proverbial bag.

"What did you just say." Sandor said coolly. He knew what she said but he wanted her to say it one more time. Elyria dared a look over her shoulder at him, only to find her Hound glaring down at her. She didn't ay anything for a good second as she tried desperately to get her thoughts together.

"In Dorne I'm a deserter. I left the house of my father, Oberyn Martell nearly a year ago now-"

"Ohh fuck off. You're a damn _Sand Snake_!" He hissed, kicking a nearby pile of leaves. Elyria flinched as she watched him throw his tantrum but she didn't move from where she was knelt. "Wasn't it you who had bitched and pissed about the possibility that I was knight, when you've been dishonest far longer than me!" He shouted to the trees. He was angry, she'd lied to him! A lie of commission but a lie all the same!

"You probably experience joy as you take a man's life but I don't!" She spat, getting to her feet. "Littlefinger's brothel was my only way out! If they were to find where I was they would kill me ans anyone involved with me. I don't like killing!" Sandor roared, grabbing her chin quietly.

"The Lannister's are killers. Your father is a killer. Your sisters are killers. Your children will be killers someday. Littlefinger is a killer. His soggy cunt is the reason that dear Ned Stark, Hand of the King and King in the North lost his fucking head." Sandor paused, his scowl dropping from his face. "If you want to survive out here you'll continue to kill too. The world is built by killers, girl, so you better get used to it."

"Don't you think I know that?" Elyria snapped at him, defiant yet quiet. She knew he was right but she wouldn't just bend to his will. Sandor paused, looking between both of her eyes until his they flickered to her lips and finally his hand at her chin. He released her roughly, turning to walk away.

"Aye." He muttered, just loudly enough that she barely heard it. But she heard the disappointment in his words loud and clear. "Get back on the fucking horse. We have riding to do."

* * *

They rode long in to the day in a very heavy silence. Though Sandor held her waist to steady her on their horse, it was not a happy hold. It was cold and hard, much like his chest armor that dug unforgivingly into her back. Elyria felt awful for not confiding in him her past. If she had known the Hound as she did now, before Jofferey's assault, before things got complicated, she certainly would have told him. She trusted the man, obviously, and now here they were, not speaking to each other.

It was nearly sundown before they stopped, and once again Sandor pulled them far off into the woods before dismounting his horse. After helping Elyria down, he tied the steed off out of sight to a nearby tree before settling down onto a nearby log. Elyria followed suit, except she chose a small patch of grass to sit in, the only patch that had managed to grow in the thick underbrush. After sitting in silence for quite some time, there was a rumbling from across the clearing. Elyria's eyes widened in surprise, it was the Hound's belly

"You're hungry." She hummed, obviously. The Hound scowled at her but he didn't say a word. "We need food, Sandor." She said, refusing to let the conversation die.

"And how do you suppose we fix it? Unless you've got a stove hidden in your cleavage I think we're pretty fucked, girl." He told her harshly. Elyria frowned, noticing she was back to being called 'girl' again.

"You can start a fire."

"Fuck fire." He said, almost immediately. Elyria cocked an irritated eyebrow at him.

"Why the hell not?" She spat. It was going to be cold soon and all she had was a light cloak.

"Fires are beacons and you can see them for miles. Fuck. Fire." He covered well, settling back into his log. Elyria sniffed indignantly, standing from her patch of dirt.

"Fine!" she huffed, taking off towards the woods.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going?" Sandor shouted after her. She stopped to look at him momentarily.

"We're in a forest, Hound. I hope you like berries and tree bark." Elyria hissed at him, stalking off through bushes. Sandor huffed something after her, but she didn't care to hear him. There was still at least an hour of daylight, Elyria could still find something to eat. She wouldn't go far from camp, there had to be something edible around here somewhere.

* * *

Elyria foraged for quite sometime, and was actually quite proud of what she'd managed to find. She knew that the Hound couldn't stay mad at her forever, and she would just have to weather his moody storm, which hopefully her food finds would help make more tolerable. It was nearly dark when she got back to camp. Or what she thought was camp, considering the small break in the tree growth was empty. Elyria began to fume, he had left her!

"Oh you shitty Hound!" She yelled, dropping her bag of goods, her voice echoing into the trees. But then she saw in the patch of dirt next to the log where Sandor sat, several grooves in the fine dirt. Growing closer she could see that they weren't normal wear and tear of his boots, it looked like someone had been dragged. Elyria knelt to the ground and upon further inspection she could see several boot prints littered the campsite, all of different sizes. A feeling of dread crept over Elyria's body. "That shitty king has found him!" She whispered hastily.

There was no time to waste, she had to catch up to them, and Elyria stood, turning to run for Sandor's horse, only to run into something tall and hard. The sudden impact nearly knocked her to the ground but she caught herself before she fell. Elyria was terrified to find that she had run into a giant man, but it was not her giant man. The stranger grinned at her quietly from where he stood.

"The King's dog told us he was alone, but there were two packs on his horse. He thinks we're stupid but we know better." The man told her as he took a step towards her. Without mincing words, Elyria drew her cunty blade, leveling it towards her attacker quietly. He raised an amused eyebrow as well as his hands in surrender.

"I will gut you." She hissed at him. The man chuckled and sighed.

"A Dornish accent. We don't hear too many of those around here." He told her happily. "Now, we aren't sure why you chose the company you did, but the boss would probably like for us to take both of you, so you can either come easy or I can make you." That was when Elyria noticed how he used the plural form of the word I.

"What do you mean we?" She asked him, but it was too late, from behind a another set of arms grabbed her and the man in front of her shoved a burlap sack over her head. "Let me go!" she screeched, struggling against him as she began to wildly swipe her sword. The man grabbed her wrist, twisting as he did, and she felt her sword fall from her fingers as another pair of arms grabbed her legs.

"Take her to the wagon. We need to get riding if we hope to make it to the inn by first light." Elyria heard the first man say as she tried in vain to free her legs. If she could just get them free!

It wasn't until they tossed her into a wagon that she stopped struggling. She landed hard on her chest, while the man who had her arms pinned her down, tying her wrists together much too tightly. Elyria tried desperately to wriggle free before he tied the final knot, but it was no use and once again she was tossed further up into the wagon where she landed with a loud oof on something hard.

"Elyria?" A gruff voice came. Elyria's stomach began to do flips and she struggled to sit up. She found it impossible without arms, so instead she settled on to her Hound's chest.

"I thought you'd left without me!" she whispered sheepishly, her voice pitchy. She fought back the urge to cry hysterics.

"What? Don't be a twat. The fuck would I leave you for?" Elyria remained silent as she tried to think of a delicate way to say because I lied to you. "Did they hurt you, girl?" he asked her, catching her off guard.

"Only my pride. They snuck up on me twice, the cunts. Who the fuck are they?" Elyria asked him.

"The Brotherhood Without Banners. It seems the King's dog is a fitting trophy." Sandor replied huskily. He was worried, honestly. Being captured by the Lannisters was one thing, at least he knew where he stood with them, but the Brotherhood was a different story. They were a rebel group who did whatever the fuck they wanted against Lannisters and their aligned with extreme prejudice.

"At least they aren't Lannisters?" Elyria offered him to which he snorted.

"I'd rather they were. Then they'd just put my head on a spike and be done with it." The wagon grew quiet, neither of them seeming to mind the awkward position they were in, Elyria sprawled on top of him. "Get some sleep, I have a feeling we're gonna need it for tomorrow."


	10. Swine Herds And Tanners And Masons

**Alright guys, so I'm going to be uploading this story a bit slower than everyone may like, mostly bc we all know how GoT works. People die. I want to see what exactly they're going to do with Sandor Clegane before I write anything past Brienne of Tarth's assault.**

 **Also, sorry for all the spelling errors in my last post, I didn't do very good proofreading bc i was REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY excited I'd found the files! lol**

* * *

As their captors had predicted, it was morning time when they arrived at wherever it was they were going. Elyria, who had fallen asleep sometime in the night, was the first pulled from the wagon, which was how she was so pleasantly woken up that morning. She cried out in pain as they grabbed her hair through the burlap and yanked on it, taking her from Sandor's chest violently.

"Get your hands off of her, you fucking cunts!" He growled after them, only to be tossed from the wagon next. With their sack masks still intact, Elyria and Sandor were led across fairly even terrain. Voices began to grow closer and Elyria stumbled over what felt like a door jam, her boots finding a wooden floor beneath them. The group was met with several cheers and the pair were brought to a stop.

"That is an uncommonly large person." A drunk voice spoke, the speaker's shoes approaching them unevenly. "How does one manage to subdue such an uncommonly large person?" And then their sacks were removed. Elyria blinked several times as her eyes adjusted. They had been brought to what appeared to be an old inn. "Aha! Not a man at all! A Hound and his bitch!" The man in front of them boasted loudly, as he ran a thumb down the pink scar on Elyria's cheek. Elyria sneered as the rest of his men began to howl around them.

"Piss off!" Elyria snarled, snapping at his thumb. The ginger drunk's eyes widened in delight and he went to touch her cheek again.

"Good to see you again, Clegane."

"Thoros… The fuck you doing here?" Sandor shot back.

"Drinking and talking too much, same as always." The man, Thoros, said, as if it were obvious. "A pretty prize lads!" He said, turning and showing Elyria and Sandor to his men again. They hollered in approval, most of them returning to their drink, save for one group, several young bannermen sitting in the back.

The three young ones stood to leave, walking past Sandor and Elyria quietly, heads down, but The Hound was no fool. He knew the face of the shortest girl even if she tried to keep it hidden.

"Girl!" He called after her, catching Elyria's attention. The Dornish woman hadn't really took heed of the group until Sandor brought them to her attention. Elyria struggled to see past Sandor's giant frame as the youngest of the leaving group stopped. Slowly she turned, and Sandor refocused his attentions to Thoros.

"What in Seven Hell's are you doing with a Stark bitch?" He asked the drunk ginger, who's eyes seemed to open so widely they might pop out of his skull.

"Stark?" Elyria inquired, but Sandor shushed her. She'd heard that name before, the Hand of the King that Littlefinger had betrayed was named Stark. Elyria frowned at the girl, who returned her frown with a shitty glare.

"I was unaware that the North King's daughter was with us…" Thoros trailed off to which Sandor sneered.

"It's because she looks like a boy, and you're a daft, drunk bastard with an ass for a face." He goaded the captors. Thoros smirked at him, before punching the Hound in his face hard enough that the hit drew blood. Sandor recovered quickly, spitting the blood out onto Thoros' boots with a laugh.

"Take him back to the carts. We've places to be, men!" Thoros rallied, earning another set of cheers. Once again Elyria was drug, turned back towards the door before her captors began to shove her. Several times she nearly fell, earning curses from Sandor as he threatened the men's lives, his own hands tied behind his back.

The Brotherhood led them towards the back of the inn, where the man who had captured Elyria was regrouping with the rest of his brothers. He gave her a dashing smile, one that she may have thought handsome once, before turning to grin at the Hound happily. Sandor scowled at the man, he hadn't missed the way that he'd smiled Elyria. Deep down in his belly, Sandor could feel jealousy burning.

"Hello, Dog." The young man said chipper, turning his attentions to Elyria. "And how fares my Dornish lady?"

"Why don't you untie me and I'll show you?" Elyria threatened him sweetly, jumping at him, only to be subdued by her guard. Sandor's lips twitched upwards in a smirk, there was his fiery Songbird. The young guard was not at all thrown and instead he looked at Sandor coolly.

"What are you staring at, Twat." Sandor spat, grumpy.

"Anguy." The man told him happily. Sandor gave him a queer look, and the boy chuckled. "My name is Anguy."

"Am I supposed to care?" Sandor asked him, unpleased. Anguy ignored him, instead taking him by the arm roughly. Sandor growled as he watched the rest of Anguy's men handle Elyria just as rough. He decided he was going to kill them all. "You think you're good with that bow, huh, twat?" Sandor emphasized the word twat.

"Better than anyone you know." Anguy returned, not bothered.

"Coward's weapon. I like to fight up close, I like to see a man's face when I put the steel in him."

"Why, so you can kiss him?" Anguy taunted, placing his hand on Elyria's raven head, shoving her harshly into the back of the wagon. Sandor growled as he watched them shove the girl, pull the girl, push the girl around all day. They would pay for every bruise and scratch they put on her, that much he was certain of.

They rode much of the day and from what Elyria could tell the terrain was not even. The wagon creaked underneath them as it took them over rocks and hills, several times it lurched dangerously sideways, which neither Sandor nor Elyria could brace themselves for, and they toppled over each other.

"Mind your body!" Elyria hissed at him as she took something hard, most likely a shoulder, to her face

"Fuck off!" The Hound growled, though he did feel bad. The last thing he wanted was to injure the poor girl. The wagon grew quiet again as it rode on, until Elyria spoke.

"That's Ned Stark's daughter? The King's Hand, right?" Elyria asked him quietly. Sandor grunted in return. Elyria had arrived in King's Landing not long after his execution. She didn't know much about what happened, save for what Sandor had vaguely mentioned. "She can't be more than ten, how did she get here?"

"Because she's a wily little bitch." Sandor growled. Elyria frowned inside her bag.

"What happened to him? Ned Stark I mean. He was King in the North right? So how did his head end up on a spike?" Elyria asked quietly. Sandor sighed, this was going to be a long story.

"Lord Stark stuck his nose in dangerous places." Sandor told her. The Hound proceeded to tell her just how Ned Stark came to King's Landing, at Robert's request after the suspicious death of the original Hand, John Arryn. He told her that Ned Stark had brought his two daughters with him, one, Sansa, was engaged to the prince, the prince who took the throne after his father's death. The prince who was now King Jofferey. He told her how the King beheaded Ned Stark for treasonous talk, The North King had found out that Robert Baratheon's three children were not his. They were a product of incest between the Queen, Cersei, and her brother, Jaime. He was beheaded in front of his daughter, Sansa, but not before he sent word to King Robert's brothers. Which is why Stannis Baratheon had attacked King's Landing. Finally, Sandor told her about how Arya, the daughter with the Brotherhood, had disappeared. At the end of his story, Elyria was left speechless.

"The Lannisters….." she scowled, unable to find words. Sandor sniffed.

"A trifling lot. Shit eaters and sibling fuckers with hearts of ice and bottomless purses." He muttered, the wagon grinding to a stop. Elyria flew forward, only stopped by Sandor's giant shoulder, which she hit head first.

"MOTHER FU-" Elyria shouted, as she was forcefully grabbed by her cloak's collar and pulled from the wagon back.

"Watch your mouth, you're a lady!" Anguy told her. Though she couldn't see him she knew that he was grinning.

"Fuck you, cunt." Elyria rattled, her eyes growing wide. Scarily, the Hound spewed out of her mouth. He was rubbing off on her. Anguy only chuckled as he led them down hill, into darkness. If Sandor was a betting man, he'd say they were heading into a cave as he stumbled over rocks And uneven footing.

* * *

They seemed to walk for quite a while, going deeper and deeper, until Anguy pulled Elyria to a stop. She coughed, as he'd pulled her by the collar of her tunic, only to hear that Sandor was still walking. Anguy removed her sack, finding that indeed, they were still leading the Hound several feet in front of them, next to a giant fire. Elyria was surprised to find that she had been left, though still bound, next to Arya Stark and her young, male friend.

"Where is this place?" Elyria asked.

"Somewhere neither wolves nor lions prowl." Thoros explained, before chuckling and stepping away. Elyria watched as Sandor's hood was the next to be removed, And she was shocked to see him step away from the fire fearfully. He's afraid of fire? Her mind whirled. No wonder he was so fearful the night of the battle. The entire bay was on fire that night!

"You look like a bunch of swine herds." Sandor chuckled as he looked around the cave room. His eyes settled finally on Elyria, who still stood tall and proud, even if she was bound. He bit back a frown, seeing her there, the fire burning hot at his side, this was not a good situation. Nope.

"Most of us were swine herds." Someone called from the crowd. Sandor sneered in the direction the voice came as others joined, listing off other poor occupations.

"You're still swine herds. And Tanners, and Masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?" Sandor spat at the ground at Anguy's feet.

"No," A new voice came. Elyria searched for its speaker but needn't look long as the crowd parted, revealing a shorter man with red hair and an eye patch. "Fighting in a war makes you a soldier."

"Beric Dondarrion." Sandor swallowed, shocked. Last he heard, the man was dead. But he had heard rumors on the wind that he was immortal thanks to their prick friend Thoros, High Priest to the Lord of Light. "You've seen better days."

"And I won't see them again." Beric shot back. She was surprised at the comradery between them, considering she was sure that the man was here to kill them. Elyria watched as Sandor shook his head, his taunts were not done, but then that didn't really surprise her.

"Stark deserters, Baratheon deserters, you all aren't fighting in a war, you're running from it!" Sandor sneered.

"Last I heard you were King Jofferey's guard dog, but here you are a thousand miles from home." Beric smiled at her Hound, a cruel smile. Elyria opened her mouth to speak but Sandor narrowed his eyes at her, shushing her immediately. If she stayed quiet, maybe they would let her go. "Which of us is running?"

"Untie these ropes and we'll find out." Sandor told him arrogantly. "What are you doing leading a mob of peasants?"

"Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother in King Robert's name."

"Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead. My brother is alive," Sandor paused. But fuck him. He thought miserably, spitting at the ground. "You're fighting for ghosts."

"That's what we are." Beric chuckled. "Ghosts, waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you, no matter whose cloak you wear." Elyria watched, terrified as the crowd around her began to stir and rally around his words. "Lannister, Stark, Baratheon. You prey on the weak, the Brotherhood Without Banners will hunt you down."

"You found god, is that it?" Sandor sneered.

"Aye, I've been reborn in the light of the one true God. As have we all." Beric told him. Sandor sighed, so it was true. This was growing more and more impossible.

"If you mean to murder me then get on with it. But her," Sandor nodded to Elyria, and for the first time Beric noticed her. "If I die she goes free. She's not part of this, she tagged along for a fresh start." Beric seemed to mull over his words, gesturing to Elyria with his hand. Two guards escorted her around the fire, standing her in front of their leader. She eyed him proudly.

"How did you get that scar, girl?" Beric asked her, running a gentle finger down her face. Elyria drew back from him, her eyes flickering to Sandor. He nodded his approval, it would look better if she told the truth.

"The shit King Jofferey gave it to me. Didn't like my wares." She sneered, puffing out her chest. Beric frowned at her, removing a small dagger from his belt. Elyria's eyes grew wide and she began to fight against the men holding her in place. She stared in wide eyed horror as Beric Dondarrion grew closer to her, his knife drawn. She dared a glance at Sandor who seemed surprisingly afraid for her This was it. This was how she died.

"Beric!" Sandor growled in warning. But Beric didn't heed him, instead he crossed to Elyria, cutting her ties with the blade before sheathing it. Elyria didn't blink as she looked into Beric's eyes, she merely rubbed her wrists, they ached from the bindings.

"You have my word. She goes free."

"And my sword?" Elyria scoffed. She wasn't going anywhere and if they killed her Hound she was going to take as many of them with her that she could!d. Beric gave her an odd look.

"It will be returned after the trial."

"Trial?" Elyria questioned. She saw no judge, no magistrate. Beric nodded at her.

"Trial by combat."

"What the fuck for?!" Sandor argued as Elyria was forcefully escorted back to the Stark girl. The young Stark watched her warily, almost pityingly as her eyes traced Elyria's pink, scarred cheek.

"In repentance for every Clegane wrought upon this earth. The entire murdering, raping line of them." Anguy shouted from the crowd. "For all the babes your family has gutted and all the women your line has fouled." Sandor glared at the boy but he did not say any words.

"You're all a bunch of bastards." He heard Elyria scowl from where she stood. "Punish this man because you can't catch the rest? Cowards."

"I ain't never fouled no women and I have never slain babes. If you're talking about the Targaryan Queen and children then you must be mistaking me for my broth-" Sandor began.

"He killed the butcher's boy!" Arya shouted at her, interrupting the Hound's warning. Elyria frowned down at the little girl, She didn't know anything about that, but she knew that Sandor Clegane was more honorable than killing some boy in cold blood.

"At whose request?" The Dornish woman snapped, shutting Arya Stark up nice and quick. "That's what I thought."

"If you want to cut my throat then get on with it, but don't call me murderer and pretend that you're not!" Sandor bellowed, his voice echoing off the rocky cavern. None of the men said a word and Sandor turned, angry to look at each of them. "If you want a trial, then a trial you'll fucking have, but which one of you women will it be? Who wants to find out if your Lord of Light is truly watching over your sopping cunts?"

"It is I you'll fight this day." Beric Dondarrion told him coolly, cutting Sandor Clegane bindings with the same dagger he'd used on Elyria's. The Hound watched Beric's with wide eyes, even Elyria could see his fear, and that was an unsettling feeling. Arya seemed pleased from where she stood next to Elyria.

Thoros began to say a prayer from across the fire and the men around Elyria chanted, fanatically. Elyria watched as Anguy gave Sandor his sword, which he took earnestly, his eyes flickering to her. He wanted to tell her it would be okay, but he couldn't, a Hound never lies. Thoros crossed over to Beric Dondarrion once his prayers were finished, but Elyria could not tell what it was they were doing, until Beric's sword went up in a fiery show. The Hound froze where he stood, eyes wide, and Elyria growled.

"You cheats!" Her voice was loud and echoed off the walls as two men held her back. Sandor could barely hear her though, his eyes fixed on the flaming sword in Beric's hand, sorcery if he'd ever seen it, and damn good sorcery at that. He shoved a man beside him, taking up shield as he could feel his fear getting the best of him.

Sandor lunged for Beric, their swords clashing violently. Sparks flew from the meeting of steel on steel and just as soon as Sandor's blade met Beric's, he pulled away. The heat from the flames was almost too much for him to bear and he could feel his heart beating in his ears; he was terrified. Again their swords met, only resulting in another stalemate of strength as Beric parried him, levelling his flaming sword at the Hound fiercely.

Elyria could barely breath as she watched the two men battle. A flaming sword is scary for anyone, but to a man with a fear of fire that may as well be a death sentence. It took everything Sandor had to block one, two and three hits from the fiery sword, which Beric Dondarrion wielded as if it were weightless. He swung it wide, nearly catching Elyria's face, and the Dornish woman ducked as the fighting continued.

Sandor, who had managed to grapple with some of his terror, was finally coming into his usual, brutish form. He swung his sword, knocking Beric back a pace, before kicking at his knee. Beric recovered from his assault surprisingly quickly, not even taking a second look up at Sandor as he blocked another of his strikes.

Now it was Beric's turn to take the upper hand and as one of Sandor's wild swings missed him completely, Dondarrion took this chance to shove Sandor over entirely, bring his flaming sword down towards him. Elyria flinched as Beric's sword met Sandor's shield, which looked as if it would splinter at any moment. The shield held, and when Beric brought his arm back for another blow, Sandor rolled out from underneath him, Beric's sword striking nothing but cave floor.

With Beric off his mark, Sandor took this time to shield bash his side, which knocked him off balance, leaving an opening for the Hound. He swung his longsword hard, which Beric barely had time to block with his own. Sandor refused to let that stop him, he was seeing red now and swung again and again, each hit connecting with Beric's shield, tearing it to ribbons. Elyria felt a pang of hope deep in her chest. Come on, my Hound.

Without his shield, Beric was faster now, and Sandor was unprepared for his rebuttals. Dondarrion growled as he came at Sandor with force and speed that he had not seen from him, and all the Hound could do was block. The Dornish woman cried out in fear as the Hound's shield went up in flame, and Sandor's resolve, that had taken so long to build, crumbled.

The Hound struggled to remove his flaming shield as the fire licked at his face and arm. The crowd around Elyria began to chant guilty, Including Arya Stark. Elyria's breath came in ragged bursts as she struggled to breathe evenly. She couldn't watch her Sandor die.

The Hound began to chop at his shield with his own sword, but even that did not discard the flaming thing. Beric rounded on Sandor for another assault, which he blocked with his fiery shield, snarling at the man with eyes like slits. Sandor was in a frenzy and no matter how many calming breaths he took, he could not calm down. His wild eyes searched the crowd for an escape, for anything, when they landed on Elyria. She was terrified and her lips trembled as she feared for him. It was in this moment that Sandor decided not this day.

Sandor, his fear quelled by that one look, charged Beric and with all of the strength he had left, he brought his sword down on the man. Dondarrion raised his own weapon to shield himself, but it was to no avail. The Hound was too strong, and he cut through Beric's sword. With nothing to stop him, Sandor's blade nearly cut Beric Dondarrion in two, entering at his shoulder and not stopping until it reached his belly.

The Brotherhood Without Banners went deathly silent and Elyria released a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. With no one to stop her, she hopped over the rock wall in front of her, charging the arena. In seconds she was at her Hound's side, where she removed his flaming shield, hissing in pain as it burned her through her riding gloves. She couldn't care less, he was safe.

Sandor dropped his sword, allowing Beric Dondarrion to fall to the cave floor in a dead heap as he turned to Elyria, cautiously taking her hands.

"Stupid girl, you've burned yourself." He chided, removing her gloves to check her hands. They seemed okay, mostly superficial, though blisters were already forming in several places.

"You needed help." She told him finally. Sandor made to argue, but was interrupted as Thoros pushed past him , falling over Beric's corpse, where he began to pray in quick, hushed voices. From the crowd, Arya Stark ran for them both, short sword in hand, but was stopped by Anguy before any damage could be done.

"Burn in hell!" She screeched as Anguy carried her back to her friends. Elyria frowned at the girl, her eyes trailing up to Sandor's never faltering face.

"He will!" a tired voice came. Elyria shuddered, glancing over her shoulder at where Beric Dondarrion's body lay, or used to lay, for now he was vertical, no chest wound and very much alive. Elyria clung tightly to Sandor's arm, he was dead! Nearly cleaved in half! Slowly, she took a step in front of Sandor, at which point he growled, he'd die before hiding behind a woman. Beric stood, watching them quietly before speaking. "But not today." Beric nodded at his men, who bowed their heads respectively.

* * *

After the fight, Thoros reappeared from the disappointed crowd, carrying Sandor and Elyria's bags and her sword. Both of them checked their belongings, only to find their purses had been emptied, replaced by a single piece of parchment.

"Where is our gold?!" Elyria snapped, crumpling the parchment in her hands.

"It clearly states there that you will be paid in full when the war is over." Thoros told them happily.

"Piss on that! You're all a bunch of thieves!" Sandor scowled, glaring at the men.

"We're outlaws! Outlaws steal!" Anguy told them, as if it were obvious. "I can't believe we didn't kill you!"

"DON'T TRY IT ARCHER OR ILL SHOVE THOSE ARROWS UP YOUR ASS-" The Hound roared, reaching for the boy, only to be held back.

"You can't let him go! He's a murderer! He's guilty!" Arya began her tantrum again, this time from a safe distance.

"Not in the eyes of God." Beric said. She went to argue again but he snapped at her. "Enough! The judgement isn't ours to make!" once Arya had quieted down, Beric Dondarrion gave them a reassuring smile. "Go in peace, Sandor Clegane. The Lord of Light is not done with you yet." And then the hoods were replaced, and for a final time that day, Elyria found herself being shoved.

* * *

After the fight, Thoros reappeared from the disappointed crowd, carrying Sandor and Elyria's bags and her sword. Both of them checked their belongings, only to find their purses had been emptied, replaced by a single piece of parchment.

"Where is our gold?!" Elyria snapped, crumpling the parchment in her hands.

"It clearly states there that you will be paid in full when the war is over." Thoros told them happily.

"Piss on that! You're all a bunch of thieves!" Sandor scowled, glaring at the men.

"We're outlaws! Outlaws steal!" Anguy told them, as if it were obvious. "I can't believe we didn't kill you!"

"DON'T TRY IT ARCHER OR ILL SHOVE THOSE ARROWS UP YOUR ASS-" The Hound roared, reaching for the boy, only to be held back.

"You can't let him go! He's a murderer! He's guilty!" Arya began her tantrum again, this time from a safe distance.

"Not in the eyes of God." Beric said. She went to argue again but he snapped at her. "Enough! The judgement isn't ours to make!" once Arya had quieted down, Beric Dondarrion gave them a reassuring smile. "Go in peace, Sandor Clegane. The Lord of Light is not done with you yet." And then the hoods were replaced, and for a final time that day, Elyria found herself being shoved.

* * *

Alrighty well, that was a long chapter for you guys to hopefully help you cope with a few weeks updateless, like I said, I'm going to space them out until i know what they're going to do with Sandor.


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